Revenge is a dish best served cold and afraid
by wolfypuppypiles
Summary: Peter was walking home when the news broke out, and his phone had died half-way through fifth period so, he couldn't pick up when Tony tried to call. He had no idea what was coming for him, and no clue as to what was playing on every news announcement on tv. Toomes had broken out of prison.
1. Chapter 1

Peter was walking home when the news broke out, and his phone had died half-way through fifth period so, he couldn't pick up when Tony tried to call. He had no idea what was coming for him, and no clue as to what was playing on every news announcement on tv.

Toomes had broken out of prison.

"He's not answering. Shit, Steve, he's not answering!" Tony was frantic, mind already filled with every possible horrible scenario.

He turned to the first Avenger, already beginning to hyperventilate as he tried Peters phone again. "What if he's already got him? We have to go find him, we-"

"Tony, calm down. We don't know anything yet. Don't go jumping to conclusions. We'll go find him."

He patted Tony's shoulder in comfort, even as his own heart pounded in his chest. It wasn't a secret that Toomes wanted to get revenge on the person who was responsible for putting him in prison, and they knew that Peter's age would not deter him from doing what he thought was necessary.

"Friday, activate Peter's tracker."

Tony drove as fast as he could, heart in his throat the whole way, but when they arrived at the tracker's location, it sunk right down to his feet.

The tracker was discarded on the concrete, in an alleyway, along with Peter's school bag and cellphone. Steve knelt next to the teenager's strewn belongings as Tony looked around for any sight of him.

"Tony." Steve's tone was bad enough, but Tony felt as if he couldn't breathe when he lifted the backpack.

There was blood splashed over the blue fabric, bright and still wet. Tony's own blood ran cold.

"He's gone."

…..

Peter's head pounded, and his eyes were heavy as he blinked through the darkness. He didn't know where he was or why the ground was rumbling beneath him like a - why was he in a van?

He groaned in pain, unaware of how it alerted his captor until he heard a low rumbling voice. It was familiar in a way that made a shiver run up his spine and his spidey sense flare.

"Go back to sleep, Pedro. We aren't there just yet."

Tires squealed as the world tilted sharply to the side, and Peter suddenly realised his hands were tied, when they didn't come forward to stop his descent. The force of the van's turn propelled him sideways and he slammed into the metal with a resounding bang.

The world disappeared with the sound of Toomes' laugh ringing in his ears.

…

The next time Peter woke, he was noticeably colder and his head spun so badly he thought it might fall off. He barely had enough time to look around his concrete cell, before that voice came again, chilling him more than the cold did.

"Do you know what prison's like, Peter?"

He shook, working to steady his breathing as he looked around, trying to figure out where the voice was coming from. The room was bare concrete, no windows, no furniture but a metal toilet in the corner. There was nothing else but a door locked tight with speakers and cameras in the top corners of the room.

The voice came again, predatory and cold. "It's no picnic."

Peter whipped his head around, wincing at the pain that spiked at the movement. He lifted his hand to the back of his head, fingers meeting wet hair that was matted to a cut across his scalp. It was already healing.

"You took me away from my family. Made my wife hate me, made my daughter cry. Do you know what it was like, seeing her face when we said goodbye? That's my little girl, Peter. And you took her away from me."

Peter stood on shaky legs, finding his feet to be bare on the cold concrete floor. His backpack was gone, along with his sweater and shoes and socks, leaving him in just his jeans and t-shirt.

Toomes sounded so angry. It was the same voice that he remembered, and he could almost see the glowing green eyes that came with it. The low, furious timbre of his words shot fear into his heart, so sharp he lifted a hand to press against his chest.

"I'm going to take you away from everyone you care about, and I'm going to break you until there's nothing left. You're going to find out what prison is like. Welcome to solitary."

The speaker crackled as if turned off, and Peter was left in a silence so deep, not even his advanced hearing could pick up anything but his own laboured breaths.

Toomes hadn't been using a metaphor. Peter walked over to the steel door, seeing the slot there. He was in an abandoned prison, and he was trapped.

"No, no, no. This can't be happening."

Peter pressed his hands to the freezing cold metal of the door, pushing against it with all his strength. Usually, Peter was strong enough to catch cars, and lift whole walls of lockers but now…

He couldn't do it.

The metal wouldn't give under his hands, the steel groaning with the effort but remaining stronger than he was.

A laugh came from the speakers, cruelly amused by his hopeless situation. It was slightly too loud, making Peters a headache worsen. "Uh oh, Pedro. Are your powers not working? That might be the chloroform."

Peter let out a shaky breath as he took a step away from the door, whole body shaking from the cold.

"I've got it into the air supply. Just enough to make you too weak to leave. Get comfy kid, you're here for good."

The voice had been tormenting him in his dreams for weeks, but now it was real and Peter couldn't escape it.

…

"He was supposed to come home two hours ago, Tony! I already called Ned and he hasn't seen him, and now you're telling me you don't know where he is?!"

May was breathing too hard and too fast, and while Tony felt the same panic she did, he couldn't tell her what was really happening. He placed his hands on her arms, trying to calm her.

"Hey, we'll find him. It'll be okay."

She shook his hands off, running a hand through her hair as her eyes grew damp. "It's not okay because he's gone. I need him back, I just- I need to know he's okay."

Tony nodded the blood and discarded backpack in the alley still fresh in his mind. "I know, I'm worried too."

May looked up at him, eyes wide and scared behind her glasses. "I can't lose my little boy. He's all I have left."

Tony found it hard to look directly at her, all of her pain and desperation echoing his feelings as they filled up his chest, threatening to drown him.

"You won't lose him. We'll find him. Steve is already out searching and I have Natasha looking through all the security footage from where Peter usually walks home."

She panted, trying to gain some control as she narrowed her eyes at him, confused. "You have the Avengers looking for my son? I thought he was just an intern or something." She was grateful for any help in finding her child, of course, she was, but she didn't know why Tony would go to all the trouble.

Tony shrugged, looking away from her accusing eyes. "Yeah well, he's a good kid and believe it or not, I care about him."

May watched him for a moment before shaking her head and grabbing her purse. "I'm going to file a missing persons report."

Tony wanted to stop her but it didn't seem to be too bad of an idea to get some extra help. He nodded and picked up her jacket from the couch, holding it out to her and helping her put it on.

"I'll come with you."


	2. Chapter 2

Toomes had promised to hurt Peter, to break him, and he was a man of his word.

Peter was curled up on the floor, back pressed against the wall as he cried out in pain. Everything was so loud.

The first night he was in his cell, Peter tried everything he could to escape. He slammed his fists against the door, the walls, even the floor, until his knuckles were split, bruised and bleeding. But nothing gave.

He wasn't strong enough to break metal or stone, and Toomes had only laughed at him through the speakers.

"It's no use, kid. You're not getting out anytime soon. Not until I'm done with you."

The constant low dose of chloroform being pumped through the air vents kept his weak and tired, the unrelenting cold only adding to his discomfort.

The low temperature ensured that Peter wouldn't stop shivering, which only made his muscles tire faster, leaning him exhausted and no warmer than before.

Toomes had planned everything, using Peters abilities and enhanced senses against him.

Peter carefully pressed his swelling knuckles against the chilled wall. At least it was useful for something.

After his failed escape attempt, he was left in silence for a few hours. He cried mostly, missing his family and hoping that Tony and the others would find him soon. They had to know he was gone, with May constantly checking in on his whereabouts. They'd be looking for him.

Peter stayed there on the floor of his cell as thoughts filled up the silence. Thoughts like 'if he didn't even know where he was, would Tony be able to find him?'

Because of how he'd been taken, and the resulting blackouts, he had no idea how long he'd been missing for.

Poor May. She'd be worried sick.

Hopelessness threatened to creep into his scared mind until it was finally chased away by music.

It was the same song he'd heard a million times on the radio, a new one that had become instantly popular. Peter had liked it at first, but now that it was coming from the speakers in his cell, it was less of a pleasant melody and more a screeching mess.

It was too loud. The high notes pierced his already sore head, and the beats were so loud it seemed to shake the room around him.

And it went on for hours.

Peter whimpered, shivering. His thin t-shirt did nothing to protect his back from the cold wall behind him as he pressed his hands to his ears.

The song had played at least a hundred times already but maybe this time, as the last notes played, it would be the end. Maybe it would finally stop.

Peter held his breath, as the notes faded...  
The intro began again, notes pouring from the speakers even louder than last time.

Peter couldn't take it anymore. The repetitive rhythm, the sound slamming against his sensitive ears, it was too much. He needed to make it stop.

He let out a cry of rage as tears fell down his cheeks from the desperation of it. His head already hurt so bad but he couldn't take the noise anymore. He rocked forward a little before bringing his head back, slamming it against the wall behind him.

Bright, white, light splashed behind his eyelids with each strike of his skull against the concrete, but the pain and rattling around of his brain, helped to drown out the noise from the song, and he kept going.

He thrust his head backwards, teeth clenched and hands still pressed to his head, until he felt his hair wet with something warm. The smell of copper hit the air, and Peter could taste the scent of it on his tongue with each inhale of breath.

He ignored the way it made his stomach roll, and sent his head backwards again, harder. The world disappeared into the dark, and the song finally stopped.

…

May was coming apart at the seams and it only got worse with each day that passed, but Tony didn't know what to tell her.

The police weren't getting anywhere and it was getting harder for Tony to answer May and Ned's calls. He could hear their pain and worry through the phone and he hated having to tell them the same thing every day.

"No, we haven't found anything yet."

It was easier to talk to Ned because the kid knew about Peter being Spider-Man, but it still hurt to hear that small voice ask if they'd found his best friend.

"I'm sorry, Ned. You know we'll call you as soon as we find out anything."

His young voice sounded so sad, and Tony felt as if he'd personally let him down. "Okay. I know you're trying. Mr Stark? He'll be okay, right? He'll escape? He's super strong and he's really smart. He could get out on his own. Couldn't he?"

Tony tightened his hold on the phone, fingers bleaching white at the pressure, and he closed his eyes as he tried to reign in his emotions. He wished he could be as confident as Ned but he knew the cruelty that Toomes was capable of and he wasn't able to stop his mind from reminding him of all the ways he could hurt Peter.

He sucked in a shaky breath and tried to keep the fear from his voice, leaving it strained and unconvincing. "Yeah. He could."

…

Peter's head pounded, pain stabbing through his eyes and searing his brain. He'd been hit in the head enough times to know what a concussion felt like, only this time it was his own fault.

He felt so awful he never wanted to move again, but the skin over his arm felt as if it were burning from the cold concrete, and his neck ached from his slumped position on the floor.

He kept his eyes closed as he pressed a palm to the ground and pushed himself back up to sitting. He leant his back against the same wall he'd sat against before, careful not to touch the back of his sore head to it.

He didn't want to think about the blood in his hair, but he could still smell it, and feel it drying on his neck. It had been worth it though, because the song wasn't playing anymore.

The room was blessedly silent, but of course Toomes wasn't finished with him, and when Peter opened his eyes he found a new pain awaiting him.

The lights were so bright be immediately snapped his eyes closed, hands finding his face to block out the pain. His headache increased tenfold and a whimper slipped past his clenched teeth as nausea rose up his throat.

That haunting voice came again. "Good morning, Pedro."  
Peter groaned as his stomach clenched in both hunger and nausea. It wasn't a pleasant mix.

The voice came again, amused as he no doubt watched Peter suffer through the cameras. "You might want to drink that water. It's all you're getting for a while."

Peter's interest peaked at the mention of water, despite the threat that came directly afterwards. His mouth was so dry and he didn't know how long it had been since he'd had anything to drink.

The light burned, even with his eyes closed, but he didn't want to reach blindly forward and risk spilling the only drink he'd had in...however long it had been.

He took a measured breath and lowered his hand, steeling himself for the pain before he opened his eyes for just a second.

All he got was a blurry glimpse, along with the searing pain of his eyes burning and agony slicing through his head. But he knew where it was.

He was still trembling slightly, his muscles tired from the constant stimulation, but he crept from the wall, crawling across the floor to the door.

There was a small metal cup in front of the, now closed, slot at the bottom of the door and he moved carefully towards it.

His fingers crept forward, hard floor hurting his knees as he moved closer until his fingers brushed against the cup.

He was so thirsty he immediately grabbed it and brought it to his mouth, despite his worry that it could be dosed with something, or tainted. It tasted like water and it soothed the dryness in his mouth, but there was so little of it.

It was barely more than a few mouthfuls and Peter longed so badly for more.

He squeezed the cup in his fingers, feeling the ache of his battered knuckles flare at the pressure.

His stomach clenched again and he flinched as Toomes' voice returned.

"Say thank you, Peter. Or would you like the lights a little brighter?"

The teenager put the cup down with carefully controlled anger, sliding it across the floor and wincing at the grinding sound until it was pressed against the door. His whole body ached from his sleep on the ground, and his knees complained again as he crawled back to his spot against the wall, at the back of his cell.

His words came, bitter and hoarse. "Thank you."

Toomes sounded pleased, and Peter hated him for it. "Good boy. Don't go expecting food anytime soon, though. That's all you're getting of anything, for a while."

Peter clenched his jaw till it ached, trying to hide the way his bottom lip was trembling.

The Vulture had complete control over him, and there was nothing he could do. He was trapped, right where Toomes wanted him.

Peter had saved his life, but it didn't matter. He was going to make good on his promise and break the teenager. Peter couldn't help but think that maybe he should have just let him burn to death on that beach.

The speakers crackled again. "Now, back to our regularly scheduled programming."

Peters whole body jolted in shock, fliching painfully as a high pitched squealing came through the speakers, loud and stabbing.

His hands found his ears again, making almost no difference, as he let out a scream of pain. It was agony, lights still stabbing at his eyes as the unrelenting noise threatened to make his ears bleed.

He could barely think through the pain and noise, but one thought lingered long enough for Peter to register it. And it was nothing more than the hope that someone would find him soon.

…..

It was three days before Tony found any leads, and the first clue came to him in an email.

It was untraceable and anonymous, but he knew who it was from.

He clenched his hands into fists, pressing his knuckles to the table in front of him. "Toomes."

Steve clicked on the message, voice heavy with trepidation. "It's just a video."

Tony swallowed his sudden rush of nausea at what could be in the video. "He wouldn't ask for a ransom. What if it's just…" He didn't know how to finish that sentence, but Steve knew what he meant. What if he's torturing Peter? What if he's already killed him?

The first avenger put a hand on his teammate's shoulder, squeezing gently. "We have to open it. It could have clues on how to find him. You don't have to watch, I can get-"

Tony shook his head, adamant. "No, I need to see it. I have to know."

Steve nodded and sat, watching Tony carefully as he reached forward and clicked the link.

It was Peter, curled against the floor of a concrete room, tears running down his pale cheeks as he covered his ears. His feet scrambled against the floor, as he twisted in pain, trying to escape the horrid piercing tone wailing through the room he was in.

Tony clenched his teeth, watching the kid writhe. Steve sighed, frustrated.

"The camera's angled so we can't see anything but Peter and the wall he's leaning on. We can't use this to find him. There are no windows or distinctive markings...Tony-"

Tony shook his head. "I know, just- keep trying."

They couldn't use the video to find him, and they couldn't trace the email. It was a dead end.

Tony selected a few programs with Friday, trying to find anything they could use but Steve was right.

Toomes was teasing them, and they still didn't know where Peter was.


	3. Chapter 3

Peter woke to yet another day in his cell. The lights never went off, so he didn't know how long it had been, and he didn't get more than a few hours of sleep before the sounds started again.

His migraine was constant now, and he'd become almost numb from the pain.

Each day was the same, and he wasn't sure how much more he could take.

He lifted himself with shaky arms, feeling weak from the lack food. It might have been...three days ago or so, and a week since he'd been taken, that he'd woken up to a small cup of cold soup.

Again, he had the thought that Toomes could have put something in it, but he was too hungry to care. The teenager had eaten every disgusting, slimy drop, before pushing the cup back to the metal slot at the bottom of the door.

Toomes wasn't stupid, he knew that humans can go more than three weeks without food, and with Peter abilities, it would be more like a week and a half. And he made sure not to give Peter any more food than was necessary for keeping him alive.

Water was different, humans can't go more than three days without water because every cell needs it to function. Peter got water every two days or so, and only enough to keep him from keeling over.

He pushed his way to his feet now, blinking tired eyes at the cameras in the top corner of the room. His head spun and his throat burned with the need for water, but he called out anyway.

"I bet Liz really misses you." his voice was rough and weak, and he scrunched his eyes shut, waiting to see if his bait would work.

Toomes didn't say anything, he didn't tell him to stop, and he didn't turn up the same annoying ass song that had been playing for too many hours to count.

He must have been asleep. Just like Peter had hoped.

Peter had noticed that Toomes would seemingly disappear for a few hours, every night. Or Peter assumed it was every night. He didn't know what day or time it was but the lights and song hadn't changed in a while, and Toomes hadn't reacted to Peters jab. It was a chance.

He would have climbed up the walls and covered the cameras or simply ripped them out, but that was more conspicuous and Toomes would be sure to punish him for that. So, instead, he waited until this moment, for when Toomes wasn't looking.

He made his way to the door and squeezed his, already raw, fingers around one of the bolts holding the door to the concrete. They were hard to move, and although Peter was weakened by the chloroform and lack of food, he could be just a little stronger if he concentrated.

He had started with the bolt closest to the floor. Sitting with his back against the door, hands behind him as he worked, in order to hide what he was doing. But now he had to do a bolt higher up and this was the only time he could do it.

He winced, trying to ignore the sting in his fingertips as the metal dug into his skin at the effort to turn the bolt, but he kept going. He kept going, even as he felt the metal slice his skin. He bit down any noise of pain and kept twisting.

Blood trickled down the length of his fingers, smearing on the bolt as he turned it further. He didn't know how long he had.

Panic flooded his chest at how long it was taking and his heart fluttered against his ribs at the thought of being caught.

But he had to do something, he couldn't just sit there and wait for Tony and the others to find him because...he didn't know if they were coming.

It had been too long already. If they hadn't come by now then they either couldn't find him, or they had tried to get to him and failed.

Peters' eyes began to dampen at the thought of anything happening to them, but he lifted a hand and quickly wiped away the tears beginning to fall.

Either way, he was on his own. He had to get out. His fingers shook on the bolt, and he cursed softly as he tried harder, ignoring the sting from his fingertips. There was too much blood on the bolt to get a good grip, and he quickly pulled up his dirty shirt, to wipe his fingers, before rubbing it over the bolt and trying again.

He was almost there, he could do it. He kept telling himself he would be okay, and the voice in his head turned to something more like Tony.

'You're okay, Pete. We'll get you out. Keep fighting.'

Peter worked harder, using the imagined words to keep him going. He'd be fine. He could do it.

The blasting music looped again, and Peter flinched at the high pitches he'd heard a million times, hating the way it still stabbed his ears.

But the bolt was coming loose, it was almost out. A few more turns and he'd have the second bolt out of the door. It was progress, it was-

Footsteps thundered towards Peters door, only just audible beneath the pounding music. Toomes, he was coming.

Peter let go of the bolt and scrambled backwards until he was standing with his sharp shoulder blades pressed against the back of his cell. He shook so bad he was practically vibrating, but it wasn't from the cold. His heart pounded and he could barely breathe through the fear choking him.

The footsteps got closer, finally stopping at the door, where keys jingled and the lock snapped open. The door swung inwards with such force that it slammed against the wall, and Peter flinched, boney shoulders coming up to his ears.

Toomes was furious, his gaze hard as he clenched his teeth. His whole body was tensed with anger but he moved slowly, like a predator, putting Peter even more on edge.

Their eyes remained locked, as Toomes walked behind the door, finally taking his eyes off Peter to inspect the door.

Peter felt as if his heart might beat right out of his chest. Toomes would see, how could he not? And he would be mad. He was mad. He must have seen on the cameras.

Peter's breaths came too fast as Toomes gripped the bolt from the door, and made the last few turns before pulling it out. He held it up, narrowing his eyes at the incriminating evidence of Peter's failed escape attempt.

His voice was low, threatening, sending a shard of fear right through the teenager.

"What is this? Trying to leave, are you?"

Peters' eyes darted to the door, the open door, and he made a decision.

His legs weren't as strong as they usually were, after days without food and water, but he used all the strength he possessed to sprint to the door and out. He made it no more than half a foot from the doorway before a hand gripped the back of his shirt and yanked him backwards.

He had been so close, he'd even managed a single lungful of clean air, before Toomes dragged him back.

His shirt collar pulled painfully on his throat as he was dragged back into his cell and thrown to the floor. As weak as Peter was, Toomes had the advantage. He was bigger and stronger, and he wasn't starving.

Toomes loomed over him, taking a knee next to his victim, and slammed a hand on Peters' chest, holding him to the ground.

"You thought you could just escape this? There's no escaping this, Peter. You aren't getting out, and no one's coming to save you."

Toomes gripped the collar of Peters shirt and yanked him up, before slamming him to the ground. Stars exploded behind Peters' eyes as he scrunched them shut against the pain. His hands came up to grip Toome's wrists, trying to pull him off, but he was too hungry, too weak, too dizzy.

That growl came close to his ear as he was pulled up again. "You're mine."

Peter was slammed against the ground again, forcing the air from his lungs and making his vision blur further.

He whimpered at the pain, coughing and spluttering as he dragged air back into his aching chest.

But Toomes wasn't finished. His hands let go of Peters collar, only for his fist to come down and collide with the teenager's cheek. His face snapped to the side, pain throbbing through his skull to the beat of the music still playing, as his eyes scrunched shut.

Words fell from Peters' mouth, even as the fist came to slam into his teeth.

"Stop. Please, stop. I'm sorry. I-"

Toomes wasn't in the mood for apologies. "You're sorry?! You took me away from my wife! From my daughter! You took everything!"

Punch after punch rained down on him, across his cheek, his jaw, on the side of his head.

Peter could taste blood flood his mouth when his lip split, but he spat out more jumbled syllables anyway, as useless as they were.

"I tri-ugh- I tried to save you."

The fist stopped coming, and Peter could feel Toomes stand, his own hands slipping from the other man's wrists. Toomes' voice was further away, above him, as he spoke, words bitter.

"You're right. You saved me."

Peter didn't have time to open his eyes before a boot came down on his chest. His breath exploded from his lungs, and he curled up on the floor, arms wrapping around his chest as he curled on his side.

There was a growl above him, barely audible over the pulsing beats of music. "Thanks, Pedro but you should have left me to burn."

Peter coughed harsh and painful, lungs screaming at the abuse before the boot came again. It slammed into his chest as he curled tighter on the ground, hands lifting to his head and face to protect himself from the kicks that kept coming.

Tears fell down his pale skin, gasps exploding through blood-stained teeth, as pain shot through every nerve.

Peter felt something inside his chest snap, ribs breaking under Toomes' boot, and finally, it stopped.

His eyes were squeezed shut as he wheezed, trying to get any air in at all before a hand wrapped around his throat, pressing him to the ground.

His eyes snapped open to see Toomes above him, leaning down into his face. His words came quiet, as if with great patience.

"Try anything like that again, and I'll kill you. You don't get to escape, Peter. You don't get to leave."

The fingers uncurled from his throat and Peter was left on the floor as Toomes left, locking the door and leaving Peter alone.

He remained curled on the frigid ground, sucking in air as it sent stabs of agony through his chest. It hurt so bad, but Peter couldn't hold it in. He howled, sobs and screams of agony tearing up his throat and momentarily drowning out the constant noise.

He had tried and failed, and it didn't look like anyone was coming to save him.

He cried until the exhaustion and pain overwhelmed him, and he passed out to the same lyrics he'd heard since he first arrived in his own hell.

"Open air for you to breathe in

I'll share my covers if you wanna sleep

I guess we're both pretty lucky

In a world of disaster

I got more good than I asked for

I'll take this high day any day of the week"

(AN: thanks for the reviews! I'm so glad you like this one! There's more coming so I'll try to get it up soon. Sorry theres no comfort in this chapter but its coming. Song is "Fuck you're money" from Elohim its real good but hell having it too loud huurts my ears so it would really hurt Peters)


	4. Chapter 4

(AN: I'm sorry this chapter took so long but its way longer so I hope you like it!)

Another email came, and Tony didn't know what to do. His heart ached at the sight of the new video file, but he had conflicting feelings about watching it.

On one hand, he needed to see Peter. It had been three weeks since he'd been taken, and Tony missed him so much. He never thought he'd care so much about the teenager but it was as if there was a hole in his life where Peter once was.

The way Peter would come into the lab and peek over at what Tony was working on. Or when he came back from a mission, he would pull off his mask, leaving his hair a mess of curls as he bounced on his toes in excitement, talking about his mission or patrols. He was so bright and found the compound too quiet without him.

He just wanted to see him again, to make sure he was okay.

But on the other hand, whatever was in the video, wouldn't be something he wanted to see. The last video had been bad enough, but now that even more time had passed, he didn't know what condition Peter would be in.

Tony put his head in his hands, fingers winding through his hair as he debated whether to watch it or to send it to someone else to analyse for clues.

Not watching it felt like he was abandoning Peter, but he didn't know how he would bear to see the kid in whatever state he was in.

A knock at the door interrupted his dark thoughts, and he turned around to see Rhodey watching him with concern.

"You okay?"

Tony didn't realise how close to tears he already was until he spoke, voice rough and shaky. "I got another video file from Toomes."

Rhodey didn't say anything at first, eyes knowing as he took a breath and nodded.

Tony looked back to the computer, as Rhodey came up behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"You don't have to watch it. Let Natasha and I look through it, you shouldn't-"

Tony shook his head. "No, no I need to see it. I need to know what happened so I know how to help him when we get him back. Just...watch it with me."

Tony had never been more grateful to his unrelentingly loyal friend, as Rhodey sat down beside him and gripped his hand.

Tony squeezed back as the video started, breath seizing at the sight of Peter staring, terrified at Toomes as he walked into the cell.

The teenager had always been slim, but he was downright skeletal now. His dirty t-shirt hung off him, bones protruding from his almost translucent skin. He was wasting away in that cell, and Tony still didn't know where he was.

He saw everything. He saw the way Peter tried to escape, how Toomes dragged him backwards. Rhodey let out a curse as they watched the man's fist come down on the teenager over and over, and Tony closed his eyes when he started kicking Peter.

His voice was wet and trembling, full of rage and grief. "This video is dated from a week ago. We-"

His words were cut off by another ding from the computer. A new email had come in. Tony clenched his teeth hard enough to make it hurt, as he clicked on the new video link, dated for an hour ago.

The video started, but the screen was black. There was nothing to see, but there was plenty to hear. Peter crying, sounding so weak as his sobs were cut off by a painful sounding cough.

Rhodey let out a breath, one full of worry. "He's getting sick."

And then Peters trembling voice came. "T-Tony, please hurry. I can't- oh god, I can't do this anymore. I haven't eaten in days, it's so cold, and I...I miss you. I just want to go home and see Aunt May, and Ned, and you and everyone. Please come find me."

He dissolved into sobs again, before a high pitched tone filled the cell and Peter's crying turned into a howl of pain and anguish.

Tony finished his sentence from before, voice hard. "We need to find him. Now."

Rhodey heard the pain in his voice and felt the same aching in his own lungs. He stood, fingers curling into fists at his side.

"We will, Tony. We'll find them."

They would save Peter, but there was no doubt that Toomes would not survive them.

…

The beating wasn't the only punishment Toomes gave Peter. When the teenager woke,it was to pitch blackness.

He had been expecting the same bright lights he'd endured since his capture but was instead greeted with the empty dark.

After spending so long in the blinding light, the dark seemed to swallow Peter up, and he didn't know where he was.

Was he still in the same place? Were the lights off or was he blind?

It wasn't only the dark though, the room was silent. For the first time in two weeks, there was nothing coming through the speakers. It was a blessing not to have his senses assaulted for once, and his migraine wasn't so bad anymore.

But without any stimulation, it felt as if his senses were shut off completely. It was terrifying.

He couldn't even orientate himself in the room. His hands found the damp floor, palms pressing flat against the concrete as he assessed the damage to himself.

His fingers ached and stung, raw from where the bolt had cut him. Usually, it would have healed by now, but the combination of cold, chloroform and starvation was hindering his abilities.

He could feel his broken ribs shifting with each laboured breath, lungs thick and congested with a cough tickling the back of his throat, barely held back.

His head and face, throbbed with each beat of his heart. His teeth hurt and he was grateful he didn't have to endure the bright lights and loud sounds with the concussion he definitely had.

He shivered against the chilled floor, and just lay there, pulling in carefully measured breaths and trying not to cough.

The room was so quiet he could hear everything. The way his fingernails scraped against the floor when he curled his fingers. His raspy breaths, pulled through teeth that still tasted of blood, making his split lip sting.

Without the overstimulation smothering his senses, it was more evident just how alone he was.

He was on his own, with no means of escaping, and seemingly no end to his prison sentence.

He longed so badly to be rescued, that it was all he dreamed about. That, and Toomes killing him. Even in sleep he got no rest.

The punishment lasted for...Peter didn't know how long. Days.

Peter hadn't been feeling well before the beating, but now he was heading downhill so fast he didn't bother to move from the floor.

What was the point? He lay curled, trying to stay warm.

It was getting harder to think and formulate ideas, and even harder to breathe. He was getting sick, and he knew it.

He shivered, feeling the fever that began to creep through him. The cold seemed to burn his skin as his insides raged with fire.

Time began to lose its structure as waking moments blurred with his dreams, and with the room so dark, it was hard to know consciousness from sleep. He didn't know if his eyes were open anymore and had trouble remembering why coughing hurt so much.

There was no water or food for longer than last time, and Peters' mouth was so dry that his coughs felt as though they tore his throat open.

When the slot in the door finally scraped open, Peter turned his head trying to gather enough strength to move.

His body was so weak it took a monumental effort to simply turn onto his side and then his stomach.

His eyes blinked tiredly in the darkness and he pawed forward blindly, crawling on his belly until his fingers touched the cool metal of a cup. His grip was clumsy as he pulled it towards him, but he did his best not to drop it as he brought it to his lips.

Water was a blessing to his desert mouth, and he practically sobbed at the relief it brought. There was more than usual, probably to make up for the extra long wait. He savoured every swallow before dropping the cup to the floor.

He was in such a rush to get to the food, that the metal cup had fallen from his bony fingers and the sudden noise crashed into Peter's' ears like cymbals. He flinched, his whole body tensing and curling as he pulled his hands to his ears.

He could smell the food and hunger clawed inside him, forcing his hands from his ears to grab the other cup. The soup was cold as usual but, like the water, there was more than his normal share and he quickly swallowed it down.

It didn't make a dent in his starving, cavernous stomach, but he was grateful for it all the same. His thin fingers pressed to the cup, wishing for more, wishing for relief, wishing for the reassuring touch of May's hand in his hair, or her gentle finger on his cheek.

Tony would take care of him if he were there. He'd tell him everything was okay, and wrap him in a blanket, giving him all the food he wanted. Natasha would kill Toomes where he stood as Steve carried Peter out, holding him in his arms, safe. He wanted to be safe again. He wanted to see them again.

He missed them all so mu-

Something tapped on the metal slot on the door, impatient and sharp, making Peter flinch as it reminded him to put the cups back.

He obeyed, carefully placing the cups on the ground, in front of the slot and listening to Toomes take them away and lock the slot shut again, before footsteps echoed down the hallway.

Peter lay there for a while until his stomach began to twist and clench. He let out a grunt as he turned onto his side, arm wrapping around his middle as it rumbled.

At first he thought it was the same hunger pains he'd had for… too long, but then something crawled up his throat.

He was going to throw up. He had just eaten for the first time in days and he was about to throw it up.

"No, no, no."

He needed the food and water, he couldn't throw it up. He was weak enough as it was. His arms shook as he pressed his palms to the floor, feverish skin burning at the cold as he tried to lift himself up, gagging.

His stomach had been so hollow for so long that it couldn't handle the sudden intake, so it was rejecting it completely.

Peter was so, so hungry, and the twisting of his stomach made his breaths hasten to heaves and gasps which only made his chest ache horribly. He would have cried, had his body had enough water to form tears, but as it was, he simply trembled, feeling as if his whole body was self-destructing.

What little he'd managed to get down, came up in a rush, stomach squeezing out every drop of nutrients he'd managed to swallow. It came up, splattering to the floor, wasted.

Peter gasped, feeling faint, but forced his weak muscles to move. He pushed himself away from the mess, crawling to the other end of the room until he was against the wall. He curled up, stomach lanced through with a sharp pain as he sobbed.

He had never felt more hopeless in his life. He hadn't felt anything close to comfort in weeks, and though his voice was weak, he called out anyway.

"T-Tony, please hurry. I can't- oh god, I can't do this anymore." he cried, begging to be saved, and knowing that his prayers couldn't be answered. No one could hear him, and no one was coming.

If only he knew Tony had heard, he may not have given up.

Hope died in his heaving chest, and he closed his eyes at the pain caused by his coughing.

He closed his eyes, just wanting to sleep, when that god-awful high pitched whine exploded through the speakers yet again.

It was too much. He let out a scream of anguish and pulled his hands up to his ears, pressing on them and trying to block out the noise as his fingernails dug into the side of his head. He almost wanted to tear his ears off or slam his head against the ground until he knocked himself out. But he was too tired, and all he could do was lay there and pray for it all to end soon.

Peter was usually an optimistic person, but he couldn't get out by himself and he was only getting sicker. He knew it was bad when a starving person couldn't hold down food, and he could feel the fever burning through his veins.

He curled up, covering his ears with his eyes closed, not moving for days.

Until finally, they came.

…..

They'd found something after Natasha took use of one of Tony's satellite, and using what little information she could take from the videos Toomes sent, she finally tracked him down.

"It's the only place built with a room like the one Peters in that's been using power without explanation. We got him, Tony."

Adrenaline rushed through him at the thought of finally rescuing Peter. He didn't hesitate for a second. "Let's go get our boy back."

….

The prison was abandoned and had been for years but they knew for a fact that it was where Toomes was keeping Peter.

The good thing about prisons is that they're big and have lots of entrances and exits, which meant it wasn't too hard to sneak in without Toomes finding out.

Steve lifted his shield, squinting down a dark hallway. "Toomes will be in the control room, and we know he's got access to the camera's, so keep out of view. Tony, Bruce and Rhodey, you go find Peter. Natasha, Bucky and I will find Toomes while Sam goes around from the south in case he tries to run. The police are on their way, they'll wait outside until we have him, and we have medics for when the prisons clear."

He looked back at his team, eyes pleading. "That means Bruce is the only medical help that Peter can get until Toomes is taken down. Do you understand? We need to do this right, and quickly, so Peter can get proper treatment."

Nods all around. Steve let out a breath, steeling himself for the task ahead.

"Okay, let's go."

They split up, Tony and his team heading down a separate corridor, his heart pounding with anticipation.

Rhodey and Tony walked ahead of Bruce, suits armed in case anything came at them.

Bruce carried a med kit, their footsteps echoing down the deserted hallway and Tony's heart pounding harder with each move closer.

They were finally saving Peter. He was so close.

"Tony! Wait up!" Rhodey attempted to whisper, but Tony wasn't listening. He was too impatient to get to the kid he'd been searching for, for weeks. He wasn't sure what he'd find or how he'd react but he knew he couldn't wait any longer.

He hurried ahead, heart jumping with every cell he looked in. He needed to find him, he needed to hurry. He was in a full sprint by the time he finally found the right cell, and he skidded to a halt at the locked door, piercing tone coming from behind it.

"Peter! We're here! We found you, buddy!"

Tony was practically hyperventilating as he stepped back from the door and called out again. "Go to the back of the cell! I'm going to blast the lock!"

He waited for a second, giving Peter time, before he fired his suits beam at the door, destroying the lock and allowing him in.

In that moment, Tony swore he couldn't breathe. The room was dark and far too cold, and he shivered as Friday scanned the area.

"The air in the cell contains a low level of chloroform. Turning on suits filters."

Tony's voice was quiet. "Don't bother."

He tapped the side of his neck, helmet folding back off his face.

The arc reactor on his chest lit the room with cold light, and he sucked in a breath as he saw a limp form laying on the floor at the end of the cell.

"Peter?"

Bruce and Rhodey were close behind him, cautiously creeping forward. The figure didn't move.

Tony couldn't force his feet forward. He couldn't breathe. Peter looked dead.

He was curled on his side, back to the door. He was dirty, feet bare and hair long, t-shirt hanging from his thin frame. He was so small.

Friday noted his rising heart rate and accelerated breathing, and spoke. "Heart rate detected. Peter is alive but is in dire need of medical attention."

Tony practically fell to his knees with relief as Friday picked up the kids heartbeat and played it for Tony to listen to.

Thump thump thu-thump...thump.

It was weak and erratic but it was there, and his throat grew thick with emotion as Bruce hurried forward with his gear.

Tony watched as Bruce knelt and leant over the teenager, hands moving with quick efficiency.

"I need some help over here!"

Rhodey surged forward as Tony tried to chase the fog of fear from his brain. He was frozen, hands shaking as Rhodey and Bruce carefully rolled Peter from his side to his back, and finally, he could see Peter's face.

He was so pale, blood smeared over his lip and forehead from wounds that looked too old to have not been healed yet. His lip was split, blood dried through his hair, but the worst was how thin he was. His cheeks were sunken, and Tony could practically see the kids ribs through his shirt.

Peter didn't react when they rolled him over, and Bruce was pulling things out of his bag as he called out.

"Tony! He's having trouble breathing, I need you to help me."

Tony didn't move until Rhodey's voice came over the horrid piercing tone still ringing through the room.

"TONY!"

The fog in his brain melted in an instant, and he made his way to the boy on the ground. Bruce was holding something out to him. It was Ambu bag.

"I need to get this line in. Tony take it, he can't breathe."

Rhodey held the IV bag up, watching Tony carefully as he took it and knelt next to Peter's head.

Bruce was muttering things to himself as he worked, desperately trying to keep the kid alive.

Tony felt tears come to his eyes as he looked down at the boy up close, pressing the mask over Peters mouth and nose.

He was barely breathing, chest working so hard to expand that Tony could hear the small wheezes being dragged in through his parted lips.

He pumped the bag in rhythmic bursts as Bruce secured the IV, still muttering unhappily as he began to panic.

"He's too weak, we need to get the med team in here. He needs to be in the med bay."

Rhodey shook his head as Tony curled his fingers under Peters' chin as he held the mask to his face. His whispered words were swallowed by Rhodes louder ones.

"He's too warm."

"We can't get any medics in until Toomes is out."

Bruce pulled Peters shirt up, momentarily ignoring the bruises and far too visible rib cage, as he pressed his stethoscope to the teenager's pale chest.

His voice was bordering on full-on panic, rushed and loud. "He's not going to last that long! DAMMIT! He's got fluid in his lungs, he needs to be intubated."

Tony ignored their shouting, tears beginning to fall as he continued to pump air into Peter's mouth. He watched those closed eyelids and wished they would open.

Rhodey and Bruce were still talking but their voices cut off when the lights suddenly came on and the horrible noise finally stopped.

Tony hardly noticed any of it as he lifted his free hand and used it to run gentle fingers through Peters' hair. He could barely see through his tears as he tried to comfort the unconscious boy.

"I'm here, Pete. We found you. You'll be okay, you're safe now. I promise."

His coms came to life suddenly, Steve's voice quick and out of breath. "We got Toomes. Coming to you now."

Bruce lifted a hand to his own coms, voice too loud in the suddenly quiet space. "Send in the med team, now!"

Peter looked so much worse in the light and Tony didn't know if he could bear it anymore.

Footsteps thundered down the hall towards them, the rest of the team making it to the door just as Bruce's eyes widened further.

"He's going into cardiac arrest!"

Tony's hands shook so badly his fingers wouldn't squeeze the bag anymore, and he felt himself unable to breathe as the dam broke and he let out a sob.

"No, Peter. Don't give up, please. We finally found you."

Rhodey's arms wrapped around his chest, pulling him back as Bucky took the ambu bag from his numb fingers.

The room seemed to explode with movement and noise. Bruce was yelling instructions as Natasha took the IV bag and Steve dropped to his knees and began compressions.

Rhodey held Tony back, unable to do anything but watch as Steve pressed down on Peters thin chest. He seemed so broken already that Tony was worried Steve would crush everything in Peters' chest.

They had worked so hard for so long to find him, Tony had done all he could to get the teenager back, but all of it was for nothing if they couldn't save him now.

Steve paused in his compressions, as Bucky pressed the bag back to Peters' face. Bruce injected more meds into the IV line but Tony knew they were fighting a losing battle.

It didn't matter how many Avengers there were in that one room, all of them with all their abilities and power, it didn't matter because Peter was too weak, and he was dying under their hands.

Tony shook in Rhodey's arms as his breath came too fast because he could hear every one of Peters thudding heartbeats as Steve forced it to beat.

Friday played them through his helmet, a cruelty and a blessing all at once, as he felt his own heart threaten to give out if the thumps stopped.

It took too long, but finally, he came back. Peter clawed his way back and his heart began stubbornly beating on its own.

Tony could hear the change in the way the beats sounded and Steve panted, falling back from the body on the ground as medics poured through the door.

Tony watched them swarm over Peter, swallowing up his view of him until all he could see was one ashen hand, palm up, fingers curled, stretched towards him as if reaching out to Tony.

Rhodey tried pulling him back but Tony would not be deterred as he shifted forward enough to take those feverish fingers in his. They were limp and dirtied but he held them with both of his hands, tears dripping onto the fragile fingers as he offered what little he could.

"I've got you, Peter. I'm here. I won't leave you."

(AN: There is more to come and a very long road to recovery ahead of Peter. Please let me know what you think, and let me know what you think should be done to Toomes since I left that undetailed. I'll try to get the next one up sooner. Love you all!)


	5. Chapter 5

Steve had volunteered to go talk to Mrs Parker so that Tony could stay with Peter, but it didn't make it any easier to look her in the eye and lie.

"Steve? Did you..? Is he..?"

She wasn't surprised to see him at her door, he'd come over with Tony enough times, to update her on the search for her nephew.

There was so much hope in her eyes, but also fear, and he didn't quite know how to tell her. Hi, your nephew has been found but he may be dying anyway?

He took a breath and looked her in the eye as he healed her heart for a second before shattering it all over again.

"We found him. We got him back."

Tears fell down her cheeks as she heaved in a breath, whole body shaking as she processed the information.

Her voice shook as she asked. "Where was he? Is he okay? I need to see him."

Steve moved forward and gently took her arm, watching her eyes behind her glasses as she saw his grim face.

May didn't know about Peter being Spider-Man, which meant he had to tell the lie that Tony had come up with to keep the kid's identity safe.

"May, Peter was...he was taken by a man named Adrian Toomes."

She shook her head as she frowned, confused. "The vulture guy on the news? Why?"

"Peter was friends with his daughter. He took her to prom and met Adrian a few times. Peter overheard a conversation Toomes was having on the phone and told Tony about it. The information he got was used by the FBI to arrest Toomes. He blames Peter for that."

May lifted a hand to her mouth, more tears gathering as she watched Steve try and muster up the courage to tell her. But she knew, how could she not?

"Oh god. What did he do to him? Where's my little boy?"

Steve gently rubbed his wide palms over her arms, trying to offer any kind of reassurance he could. "Peter is safe now, but he is in bad shape. Dr Banner can fill you in at the compound."

…

"Peter is severely malnourished and dehydrated, most likely sleep deprived too. Because of this, and the cold as well as the...the beating he sustained, Peter developed an infection in his lungs. He has pneumonia. I have him intubated until he can breathe on his own, and we are pumping him full of antibiotics and as much fluids and nutrients as we safely can. But he's just so weak that I'm not sure how long he'll take to recover. His fever hasn't come down yet, but we're working on it. Thankfully he doesn't appear to have any lasting damage from the head injuries and I've stitched the head wound.

"I have an NG tube in to help get his weight up until he can eat, which should help but because of how sick he is, I may not be able to take it out for a while. He does have a few broken ribs, but thankfully they didn't shift, he was lucky with that. He does have heavy bruising over most of him and there are the various deficiencies to correct but right now that's all under control."

May let out a sob as Tony rubbed a hand over her shoulder blades, wishing that was all.

Bruce looked regretful like he just wanted the list to end. "I'm sorry but there is more. Peter had some small cuts on his fingers that he got from the bolt in the door. They got infected pretty severely and...I'm sorry to say there may be nerve damage. We are treating it but I don't know if or to what the extent of it could be."

Tony sighed as May lifted her tear-stained face to the Doctor in front of her. "I heard someone say something about his liver? Is that-?"

Bruce nodded, placing his papers on his desk as he tried to word it properly. "Mrs Parker-"

"May. Just call me May. You saved my kid, I don't think there's any need for formalities."

Bruce nodded, eyes flickering between Tonys and Mays behind his glasses. "May. Unfortunately, because of the multiple infections as well as the malnutrition and dehydration...Peters organs are failing. His liver is barely functioning, his lungs are full of fluid, and if his kidneys get any worse I'm going to have to put him on dialysis. All of that is putting stress on his heart, and I need to monitor him closely until we get his fever and infections under control."

Mays' chest squeezed so hard it was a struggle to pull in any air at all. She sagged in her chair, Tony's arm coming around her back to hold her up as she cried harder. "Oh god, he's dying. I can't lose him, I can't. My heart can't take it."

Bruce knelt in front of her, placing a kind hand on her knee, voice soft as she looked at him.

"We are going to do everything we can to make sure that doesn't happen. I promise you, Peter is getting the very best care he can get. Don't give up just yet. I have some people flying in to look at him and believe me, we have friends in very high places."

May nodded, shifting forward in her chair, and surging forward to hug Bruce. Her voice was thick and wobbly, as Bruce hugged her back.

"Thank you, so much."

Tony and Bruce exchanged a hopeful glance, as Bruce nodded against May. "You're welcome. Everyone in this building loves Peter, we'll do all we can to help."

Of course, they wanted to see him straight away, but Bruce wanted to be cautious. "I'm keeping him quarantined until he's stronger. His immune system is practically non-existent and it can't take any more hits right now. He's in an extremely vulnerable state."

Tony didn't like that idea, speaking before May could say the same words. "We can't see him? Bruce, we can't just leave him alone, we can't just watch through a window. He needs to know he's safe."

Bruce looked at the two of them, seeing their pain and how long they had waited to see him again. He caved, nodding as he sighed.

"Okay, but you need to follow protocol. Wash your hands, wear a mask, and if you even feel a tickle in the back of your throat you stay away from him. Do you understand? It's for his own safety."

They both nodded eagerly, just wanting to see Peter again. "Whatever it takes."

"Okay, he should be done with his scans now. Let's go see him."

Tony had seen Peter as his heart stopped, he had seen him discarded on the floor of an abandoned prison cell, but still, nothing prepared him for what he saw in that hospital bed.

He was far from the bright teenager they had known. His hair was longer, limp and lifeless, without the bouncy curls that May loved so much. He was too skinny, too small, too pale.

There were too many tubes, in his mouth, covering his face, in his nose, in his arms and trailing out from under the sheets. He looked so sick, May didn't know what to do with herself.

Her knees threatened to give out when she saw him wasted away and broken. Her bright caring boy was gone, and what was left was barely holding on. Her voice was half-strangled by pain.

"Was he awake when you found him? Did he see you?"

Tony knew why she was asking, and he knew why it hurt so much to say no. Because if Peter hadn't been conscious, how was he to know he'd been rescued? He could slip away from them, thinking he was still there, alone and afraid.

Tony held May up, leading her inside Peters room, to sit in the chair next to his bed. She was too full of grief, and it spilled from her in heartbreaking sobs, her gentle hands brushing back the hair on Peters' forehead as she pushed whispers past her shaking lips.

"I'm here, love. You're home."

…..

Recovery was a long road and it was not a highway. It took time and patience and a lot of waiting around doing seemingly nothing. It made Tony feel a little useless.

"Ned asked about you again today. He calls every day, you know? I told him he can see you when you're tube free. He misses you and he's worried but I don't want him seeing you like this."

Your school thinks you were in a car accident. We didn't want Toomes family to have to suffer any more than they have already. Liz's mother knows what happened but they won't tell Liz. She sent a card."

He ran the cool cloth over Peters' forehead, sighing at the heat radiating from him. His fever had yet to break and Tony couldn't help but worry.

May snored softly from her seat as Tony pulled the cloth away, dropping it in a basin before adjusting the cooling blankets laid over Peters stomach and legs, careful of the tubing covering him, and taped to the side of his chest.

"Once you feel a little better we'll get you a haircut. Get you looking like your old self again."

He watched Peters unresponsive face as he took a comb and carefully pulled it through Peters' hair, brushing it back, away from his face.

"There you go."

It all seemed so useless. Peter didn't know he was there, and he wasn't bouncing back like he usually did. Tony hated to see the kid so weak and far away.

"You know I'd give you my liver in a heartbeat if I thought it would help. I'd do anything for you, kid. If you'd just get better."

"No offence but I don't think he wants your liver, Tony. Yours is probably worse than his is."

Tony turned at the voice, seeing Rhodey there at the doorway. He came in as Tony rubbed a hand over his eyes.

"Hey."

Rhodey took a seat next to his friend, gently patting Peters knee as he did. "Hey. How is he? Any better?"

Tony looked helplessly at the monitors he'd been staring at for the past few days. "His oxygen levels are coming up but his fevers still holding. What if he's just too weak? What if it's all too much? He was there for so long, Rhodey."

The other man nodded, slapping a hand on Tonys back as he replied, markedly more optimistic.

"Peter's the strongest kid I've ever met, and I'm not just talking physically. He's been through a lot, and it's going to take a while for him to get better, but he will."

"I want to believe you, but-"

Rhodes interrupted, his voice quiet over the top of the soft hiss of Peters ventilator.

"But you don't. You want proof."

Tony nodded, wishing he could just believe that Peter would get better like Rhodey did. It would be so much easier to just have faith, to believe that everything would work out. But there were too many demons in Tony's mind to wrestle with and they all told him two things, that he steadfastly believed.

First, that all this was his fault. And the second was there was a real chance Peter could die.

And it was hard to dispute the second one when Bruce, Peter's Doctor, had been the one to say it.

Rhodey wasn't so weighed down by guilt or grief as he answered. "Do you remember when you took Peter's suit away and Toomes first went after him?"

Tony rubbed a hand over his forehead, tired. "Of course I remember, I almost got him killed."

Rhodey shook his head. "That's not my point. You told Peter to stop looking into the weapons, you told him to leave it alone, but he didn't because Peter wanted to protect the people in his city. He couldn't look the other way when he knew someone was out there hurting people. Even when Toomes dropped a building on him, he didn't stop."

Tony nodded, letting out a small huff of laughter. "God, I couldn't believe it when he told me. I was so mad. He crawled out from under the rubble and went right back to fighting. On his own."

"Exactly. He almost died, he could have called it a day and left it to someone else. He could have called you to handle it but he knew it couldn't wait. He clung to a crashing plane and got beaten up, and still dived back into the flames to save the man that had tried to kill him. Peter doesn't just give up. Even when he's hurt and weak and scared. Even all on his own, he keeps fighting until everyone is safe."

Tony bit his lip to stop it from shaking as he watched Peter's chest rise and fall, and listened to the wonderful sound of the heart monitor continuing to beat.

"We got him back. He'll be okay." Rhodey's words were so adamant, it was impossible to argue, and Tony couldn't help but feel the flicker of hope in his chest, grow to a burning flame.

"He'll be okay."

(Sorry I know this ones short I'll try to get to the next one soon, and you will find out about Toomes' fate when Peter does.)


	6. Chapter 6

Rhodey was right, of course, Peter started to get a little stronger every day, until at last Bruce decided it was time to reduce his sedation a little.

"So, he can hear us now?"

Bruce adjusted the IV as he answered May's eager question. "He should do, yes. He may wake up but I don't know when that will be. It's a little hard to pinpoint how much sedation he'll need, so if there are any issues or he seems agitated just let me know."

Tony looked nervous, watching Peter as he twisted his fingers in front of him. Bruce noticed, offering a smile.

"There's no need to be anxious, Tony. Just talk to him, let him know you're there."

Tony nodded quietly, fidgeting with restless energy until he managed to ask what he'd been thinking about for the last hour.

His voice was quiet, afraid. "Will he be scared? When he- when he wakes up?"

May hadn't thought of that. She looked up to Bruce, waiting for his answer.

"The breathing tube has to stay in until he's past the worst of the pneumonia, so I'll have him under enough sedation to keep him calm. He might be a little confused, but he'll be okay. You'll be okay too, it's okay to be scared, just try not to show him that."

May nodded, silently taking Tony's hand in hers and squeezing tight, both of them taking comfort from the fact that someone else was just as scared as they were.

….

Information came to Peter at dial-up speed. It took a while and when his brain finally received information and uncoded it, it was slow and warbled and incomplete.

It was strange, not having all the information for even basic things. Like, where was he? What was happening? Where was his body? He knew he must have one, but for the moment, he couldn't feel it, not really. It was more of a heaviness and the knowledge that it was there, just that he could not control it.

Even his thoughts were half formed misshapen things. He couldn't hold concepts, only feel things with no context for them.

Something moving, slow and gentle against him. It had no discernable shape or name, at least not to him, but it felt like something good.

A soft voice, the words unclear but sweet sounding. A pattern, repeated over and over in his ear. Something simple, the same tone, unchanged and unending.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

He should know what it means but dial-up is slow and his thoughts slipped to something else before a solid idea could form.

He didn't know how much time passed, or if it did before dial-up became reinvented into something faster. Slowly, the world began to come to him in greater detail. It was still slow but he could translate the coming information into something that made sense.

The 'something' that moved solidified into a shape he could name and recognise. Fingers in his hair.

And the sounds came in the form of something he could understand.

"...phone is really blowing up, Pete. Ned texts every day and MJ is spacing hers out and seems mad that you aren't replying but I know she's just worried about you. Everyone's really missing you, bud."

The voice was familiar to Peter, he loved the voice, but his mind was still too slow to find a name for it.

Maybe if he could open his eyes and see who it was, he'd find the name.

Time slipped and moved around him without Peter noticing, and his eyes were open before he remembered waking.

….

Tony watched closely as Peter peeled his eyes open, blinking ahead at nothing. The head of his bed was raised to help his lungs out and Tony carefully patted the kid's hair back on his forehead, trying to encourage Peter to look in his direction.

"Peter? Can you hear me?" His heart beat so fast, excited to finally see him awake, and he watched closely as Peter worked to take in what was around him.

Those glassy eyes slid from the empty space in front of him to Tony's face, lazy and tired, blinking slow.

Tony's face warmed with a smile as he leant forward. "Hey, there you are. You're awake! It's so good to see you."

Peter blinked at him, fingers curling a little on the blanket, without him seeming to realise he was doing it. Tony saw the movement from the corner of his eye and picked up the weak fingers, squeezing them gently in his own.

"Do you know where you are? Do you know who I am?"

Peter blinked and Tony wasn't sure if he was even aware of anything. His smile faded, eyebrows coming down in concern.

The wide, blue, bite block over Peters' mouth made it hard to see his whole face and Tony wished the tube could be taken out already.

He gave Peter a forced smile and kept his voice pleasant. Even if Peter couldn't really process anything he was seeing, the least Tony could do was to make him feel safe.

"I'm going to call Bruce in, okay? To come look at you."

He kept his gaze locked with Peters as he leant over to the wall, pressing the call button.

The ding chimed, letting Bruce know they needed him, but Peter frowned at the noise, weakly turning away from it as something like a grunt pushed past the tube in his mouth.

Tony frowned as footsteps came down the hallway, Bruce coming in a moment later.

"Is everything o- Oh, he's awake! Hello, Peter. It's certainly good to see you."

He came in with a kind smile and took up a stool next to the bed. "How long has he been awake for?"

Tony wasn't sure what happened. "Um, just a minute or so. But Bruce he-"

"Peter, it's me, Bruce. Can you look at me?"

The teenager's gaze was still hazy but he lifted his eyes to Bruce's face, fingers still held in Tony's grasp.

The heart monitor beeped quietly in the background as Bruce smiled at the kid, but as soon as he lifted his penlight to Peters' eyes it sped up unhappily.

Peter let out another grunt and scrunched his eyes shut, fingers curling around Tony's.

Bruce took the light away, concerned, as Tony placed a hand on Peters' chest.

"It's okay, Peter. You're okay, it's gone. You can open your eyes."

His hand rubbed gentle circles on the teenager's chest for him to focus on, as Tony turned to Bruce to explain.

"It's too bright. He did the same thing when the call button made a noise. I think it's too sudden and too intense after what Toomes did."

Bruce hummed, nodding as Peter seemed to sigh and relax at Tony's touch.

"His senses were overwhelmed and then given nothing. They must be unbalanced, too sensitive."

Tony kept smoothing circles over Peters' chest, whispering to him as those pale fingers pulled at him, trying to bring him closer.

"It's okay, Peter. Shh, you're okay. I'm right here."

Bruce tried again, adjusting his penlight to a lower setting. "Sorry about that, Peter. I know that probably wasn't very nice on your eyes. Can I try again? This one shouldn't be so intense."

Tony wasn't sure Peter was even aware enough to know what he was saying, but those eyes slowly opened anyway, blinking heavily and making him look adorably young.

Bruce smiled and lifted his penlight once more. This time Peter didn't flinch, simply stared at Bruce as he peered into his eyes and swept the softer beam across his face.

Bruce hummed a little to himself, as he watched Peters pupils dilate and constrict in response to the light moving across them. He was right about the sensitivity. The room was kept dim, mostly due to the fact that it was very early in the morning, and his penlight's beam was so low that it would have barely registered for a normal individual. Peters' eyes were far too sensitive to light, after spending so long without stimulation.

He tapped on a few screens, adjusting the rooms light settings so that they wouldn't increase to anything brighter than they were now.

Once he was finished with that, the light went away and Bruce took the hand that Tony wasn't holding, gently pressing on Peters' fingers.

"Can you squeeze my hand?"

Peter blinked again, sleepy, as he used what little strength he had to curl his fingers.

Bruce nodded, satisfied and looked over the monitors as he placed Peters hand back down.

"Well, he's responding to basic commands, which is good, and he seems to recognise us. He's still too weak to do much else and I don't want to take him off the respirator until I'm sure I won't have to put him back on it but the antibiotics are definitely working. He's getting better."

Tony wasn't so sure, finding it hard to see any progress in someone that still couldn't breathe for himself. "What about the sensory thing?"

Bruce pushed his glasses up his nose, thinking. "They may just need recalibrating. They're overly sensitive because he's only be given extremes; too much or too little. He needs to get used to being able to adjust them to his needs. I'll adjust the settings for his room until then."

Bruce tapped a few screens, recording Peters latest readings, before noticing Peters sluggish blinks as he tried hard to stay awake.

Bruce offered him a smile. "You can sleep now, Peter. You've been a perfect patient."

Peter didn't need any more encouragement than that, and Tony watched the kids eyes slip gratefully shut. His fingers grew lax in Tony's hold, and he was asleep once again.

…

It was hard to tell the difference between dream and reality.

Peter was always either in darkness, or with Tony, but he wasn't sure what was real.

Was the darkness his cell? He didn't think he was cold anymore, but he wasn't really feeling much at all.

Was Tony's voice and Bruce's smile a dream? Or had he really been saved?

Sometimes he would be back on the floor with Toomes looming over him, fist dripping blood as he slammed it over and over into Peter's aching face. But then it would disappear in an instant and Tony would be leaning over him, looking concerned.

"It's okay, kiddo. It was just a nightmare. I'm right here, look at me. You're safe now, Peter."

Sometimes the others would be there, like Steve, or May. Bruce was there a lot, Natasha and Bucky made appearances and Rhodey and Sam read to him a lot. That was nice.

The only thing was Peter wasn't sure it was real.

What if the beatings weren't a nightmare? What if, when Toomes fist came down, and Peter snapped into the hospital room with the Avengers around him, he was just blacking out?

What if the torture was real and the safety was a dream?

What was to say he wasn't still dying alone at the bottom of his cell?

The worst part was that whenever he was in the hospital room with the Avengers, he couldn't speak. Something was always in his mouth, and he felt so weak and sick. If it was a dream, somewhere in a corner of his mind to make him feel safe, it was a crappy one.

He wasn't sure what to think until finally, something changed.

…

Peter was getting better with each day that passed and once his fever broke, the fluid left from his lungs. And finally, Bruce said that it was time to extubate.

Tony was so relieved when the tube came out, it was as if Peter had won a marathon.

"He's breathing on his own, can you believe it? Bruce said his lungs are clear and he's been pushing back on the vent, so he's taking it out today."

Steve smiled, handing Tony a fresh coffee. "That's great, Tony. That means he'll reduce the sedation, right?"

Tony nodded, looking exhausted even as he smiled, sipping his coffee between words. "Yeah, he said he should be fully awake soon. As soon as he adjusts and is okay with more stimulation, I'll call Ned and tell him to come over. He's been waiting a while to see him."

Steve lent his hip on the counter, forehead creasing in worry. "Those kids have been through so much. I can't wait to see them happy again. Oh, and I've been talking to Bruce and the nurses; I'm going to help with Peters physical therapy. I just don't want some stranger being in there freaking him out, so-"

Tony put a hand on Steve's arm, immensely grateful. "No, that's great! Thanks, I really appreciate it."

Steve just shrugged, as if it were obvious. "Yeah, well Peters a good kid and he didn't deserve what happened to him. I'll do whatever I can to help, and that goes for everyone else too."

Tony smiled. No one could resist falling in love with the spider-kid, he was too good, too full of light and no matter how long it took they would get him back to his old self again.

He was there when Peter woke up for the first time without the breathing tube, and he couldn't help but get a little emotional about it.

Before, when Peter opened his eyes, it was like having a part of him back, but now he'd really be awake and be able to talk. Tony was so unbelievably happy.

Peters' eyes flickered open, blinking away the fog of the sedation as he looked around, finding Tony as he spoke quietly.

"I know I wasn't always a fan of your rambling, but buddy, all I want right now is to make sure you're okay. So, if you could just say something to let me know you're all right, I'd really appreciate it."

Peters lips slowly parted, as he drew in a careful breath, eyes huge and disbelieving as he looked up at the man sitting by his bed.

"Tony? Are...are you really here?"

Tony's careful smile slipped from his face as he grew worried, putting a hand on Peters' chest. "Yeah, I'm here Peter."

The teenager's eyes began to fill with tears, as he realised, at last, that he was free from Toomes. He was still so weak, and he only managed to lift his thin fingers to pull at Tony's shirt, wanting him closer. He hadn't felt safe for so long.

"You found me? Is-is he gone?"

Peters breathing picked up as he began to cry, and Tony nodded, brushing his hair back as he tried to keep his own tears at bay.

"Toomes is gone, bud, I promise. He can't hurt you anymore. We found you. You're home."

Peter still looked so small in the big hospital bed and Tony couldn't stand to watch him cry, chest heaving as tears trailed down his pale cheeks.

He slipped his hands around the boy as carefully as he could, and held him to his chest, hugging him as tight as he dared without hurting him.

"No one's ever going to hurt you again, Peter. I won't let them."


	7. Chapter 7

Peter may have been awake and talking, but he had a long way to go till he was fully recovered. He was still too weak to even sit up on his own and would need help to take care of himself for a while.

Usually, any fifteen year old would be embarrassed to be fed and have his hair brushed for him, but after his time in that cell, it was more than welcome.

Peter had been alone and scared that he'd never see anyone again, and now Steve was slipping his hands under Peters back and knees to lift him from his bed. He cradled him so carefully, supporting the teenagers head on his shoulder and Peter felt so safe and secure he could cry.

Instead, he smiled up at the first Avenger. "You know, for someone that fights aliens with his bare hands you're surprisingly gentle."

His words were punctuated with a chesty cough that was still bothering him and he turned his face into Steve's shoulder as the man answered, amused.

"It's not my bare hands, I wear gloves. But thank you."

Peter panted, tired from the effort of breathing through healing lungs. His pneumonia was almost gone, thank goodness, but he barely had any stamina and he tired much too easily.

They arrived in the bathroom where Tony was waiting, heating up a bath. He smiled when the two walked in, pausing in his task of swirling soap into the water.

"Hey, there you two are. The baths warm and there's plenty of bubbles so it should help you feel a little better."

Peter smiled at the sight. A real bath for the first time in way too long. He'd been cleaned up when he was first brought in but he had been looking forward to being truly clean.

"Thanks! Although...I didn't know you had a bath. I thought you said they were for children and that you only had showers."

Steve frowned, wondering how that possibly could have come up in conversation but Tony just rolled his eyes.

"You are a children." He looked a little embarrassed, and swirled the water again with his hand, springing up more bubbles as he spoke under his breath. "I bought it for you."

Peter smiled, as Steve carried him over and sat him down on the bench beside the bath. He held him upright as Tony carefully un-tied Peters gown.

Again, most teenagers would be embarrassed to have help with a bath, but Peter was so glad to be rid of that annoying gown and couldn't wait to be in the warm water.

He didn't look down at himself, didn't want to see the ribs sticking out or the sharp curve of his hip bones. He saw Tony's expression though and that was enough. It was sad, worried, guilty.

Peter couldn't look at that either and turned away until Steve lifted him into the water.

The bubbles gathered around him as the heat of the water seemed to melt his bones. He sighed, content, as Steve kept one arm curled under his back to hold his head up out of the water.

It felt so good to be encompassed in the warmth, his eyes closed of their own accord and a slight moan slipped past his lips.

He could hear Tony chuckling, as he grabbed a cup and used it to scoop water, pouring it over Peters' hair.

"Feels good, huh?"

Peter nodded, keeping his eyes closed as warmth spread through his head with the water.

He was so relaxed, the warmth melting his limbs until he was like pulled taffy hanging in Steve's arm, and when Tony's fingers began to weave into his hair, his eyes practically rolled back into his head.

The engineer poured shampoo into his hand and began lathering Peters hair with it, massaging it through. He noticed Peters widening smile and kept going, rubbing gentle circles on the kid's temples and behind his ears.

Peters' hair was much longer than Tony had ever seen it, and he was a little more than eager to have it cut and get the old Peter back. For now, though, they could appreciate just how curly it got when he let it grow out.

Steve was carefully using a cloth to rub over Peter's shoulder, with the one arm he had free, as Tony began washing out the bubbles from Peters' hair. Gently running his hands through the dripping loops of hair before picking up a cloth and starting on the rest of him.

It was hard to keep his mind quiet while holding up Peters' arm and rubbing the washcloth over his skin, scrubbing it between the kid's fingers and over his chest.

He just couldn't stop thinking about how fragile Peter was now, and how badly he wanted to protect him. He'd never had to look after any kids before, but since meeting Peter and especially since getting him back, all he could think about was how to take care of him.

He was already compiling a list in his head, of everything else he'd need to organise. Peter needed to eat more, but his stomach still wasn't used to taking in food so they'd have to go slow. Maybe some new clothes would be good until his weight was back up, although it wasn't like he'd be leaving bed anytime soon. And then there was homework that needed to be caught up on and friends that needed to be contacted and Peter would need to stay warm and-

A soft breath and curled fingers interrupted his anxious thoughts and Tony looked up to see that Peter had fallen asleep, head cradled in Steve's elbow.

He smiled, stress melting away at the sight before he looked down at his hand where he was holding Peters. The teenager's fingers were instinctively curling around his in his sleep as water dripped from them.

Steve looked up at Tony with a smile. "I think it's time for bed."

Tony reluctantly let go of those pale fingers, nodding as he carefully rubbed the last of the bubbles from Peters' ears.

He grabbed a towel and came around the side of the bath, wrapping Peter up in the soft fabric when Steve lifted him out.

Tony sat on the long bench beside it, holding Peter against his chest as he rubbed his hands over his back and shoulders to dry him.

They dried and dressed him in new pyjamas, the kid only waking briefly when Steve tugged his shirt down over his tummy.

His eyes blinked open, barely awake, and his arms came up to wind around Tony's neck as he curled into him. Tony knew it was instinctive, Peter was just clinging to the person whose arms he could feel holding him upright, but still, he couldn't help the warmth that spread through his chest at the cuddle.

At least, he thought it was just instinct until a mumble fell from Peters' mouth while Steve adjusted his Spider-Man pyjamas.

"Tony...mm'tired."

Steve smiled knowingly at him, as Tony tried to hide his red cheeks. God that kid made him melt.

He hugged the teenager tighter and nodded. "I know, buddy. We'll get you to bed."

Steve watched the two, feeling the same overprotectiveness that everyone had been feeling since the minute they got Peter back.

"You good to carry him back?"

Tony nodded, slipping an arm underneath Peters' knees and lifting him up as he stood. "Yeah, I'm good. But we need to get him to eat more until he's too heavy for me again."

Steve nodded, walking with them back to Peter's room. "Yeah, I hear you."

He went ahead a little, pulling back the sheets on Peters hospital bed so that Tony could lay him down and tuck him in.

Peter didn't want to let go of him, whimpering when he was set down and Tony was quick the reassure him, tugging his blankets up to his chest and tucking in the sides.

"You're okay, Pete. Steve and I are still here."

Steve handed him a towel, and Tony gently scrubbed it over Peters' hair, drying it out as much as he could.

Peters' eyes opened a fraction before rolling back as he sighed at the towel massaging his head. It felt wonderful and his words were slurred with sleep.

"You're not gonna leave me, right? I don't wanna sleep by myself. Dreams are scary."

Tony finished with his hair and rubbed a hand over Peter's chest in slow circles. "We won't leave. You go to sleep, it's okay. We'll be right here when you wake up."

Peter seemed satisfied, sighing as he fell back to sleep. "Thanks. I love you guys."

Steve smiled as Tony felt himself do the same and he tried not to sound too choked up.

"We love you too, buddy."

Tony brushed a curl from Peters' forehead and looked up to see Steve watching him, a proud look on his face.

Tony squirmed at the attention, drawing his hand back. "What?"

Steve shrugged. "Nothing. It's just when I first met you I thought you reminded me of Howard. Now I'm not so sure. You're great with him."

There was that warm fuzzy feeling again. Tony had never thought he would be a father, and a big part of it was because of his own rocky relationship with his father. Steve knew his dad better than he had, which was true no matter how sad it was.

And now Steve was squashing his fears in one foul swoop and Tony couldn't deny how he felt. He had never wanted kids, but Peter was...he was different and undeniably like a son to him.

Peter sighed contentedly in his sleep, as Tony found his voice.

"Thanks, Steve."


	8. Chapter 8

"I know you don't feel great but you need to eat. Please, Peter, you're so thin."

The teenager groaned, not wanting to make his aunt worry but unable to take another bite.

"I can't! I ate half of it, it's too much. I feel sick."

May sighed, taking his half-eaten toast and putting it back on the side table. She took his bony hand in hers and rubbed over the back of it. His skin was thin and pale and she just wanted to see him okay again.

"I know you're trying, it's okay. I'm sorry for pushing. I just worry, sweetheart."

Peter sighed. "I know." He hated how much he'd made everyone worry about him. He could see how it affected them all, May and Tony especially.

They looked strung out and exhausted. So much so that Peter almost wanted to tell them to leave and get some rest. The only reason he didn't was that… he didn't want to be without them. He knew it was selfish but he couldn't help how he felt.

May looked like she was about to say something else when Tony rapped his knuckles against the doorway. It was quiet, but the sudden noise still made Peter flinch, and he saw Tony wince as he came in.

"Hey, sorry I didn't mean to scare you. I just thought we could talk."

May let go of Peters' hand and stood, sighing. "Good idea, maybe you can get him to eat some more."

Peter rolled his eyes as Tony frowned. "You only ate half a piece of toast? You know that's not enough, Pete."

May kissed the teenagers forehead as he grumbled. "I can't eat it all."

Peters frown softened just a little when May brushed his hair back. "I have to go to work, just for the afternoon. I'll be back later and I'll call during my breaks to check on you, okay? Be good, I love you."

He gave her a smile, wishing she didn't have to leave and knowing she felt the same way. "Bye, I love you too."

Tony frowned, worried as he took Mays seat. "You need to eat more. If you don't get your weight up, Bruce will have to put the NG tube back in. Come on Peter, we've talked about this."

Peter was getting grumpy again, sick of people telling him what to do. And just plain sick, he still felt awful and weak. He glared at Tony.

"I can't. Did you forget that I didn't get to eat more than a cup of soup once a week? My stomachs smaller, now. I can't just eat whatever I want."

Tony closed his eyes as he let out a breath, rubbing a hand over his face. He sounded so exhausted. "I know, I'm sorry. God, the way you'd grab for that cup every time it came."

Peter froze, heart suddenly beating harder in his chest. "What?" How could he have possibly known? What was he talking about?

Tony looked up at him, forehead creasing. "You didn't know?"

Something in Peter was afraid although he wasn't quite sure why.

Tony leaned forward, cautious as if he was worried how Peter would react. "Toomes sent us video footage from the cameras in your cell. We saw what he did. Natasha used it to find you."

Peters breaths were coming as pants, growing shallower as they sped up, his heart rate climbing. He shook his head, voice trembling. "No. No, he can't have. You would have found me sooner, you would have stopped it. You-"

Tony stood from his chair, sensing a panic attack coming on, but Peter only flinched away.

"We did everything we could. We couldn't track you and we couldn't get much from the footage. Peter, we did everything we could to find you. I promise you that."

The teenager was shaking, hands pushing his blankets away and gripping the rails on the side of the bed. "But you saw! You know what he did. You weren't supposed to know."

Tony was getting more worried with each heaving gasp from Peters' mouth. He reached his hands out towards the kid, moving slowly closer.

"It's okay, Peter."

The teenager shook his head, dragging his weak legs over the side of the bed and trying to get up. He needed to leave, to go somewhere safe where he could breathe.

God, why did Toomes have to send the video to Tony? Why did Tony have to know exactly how pathetic Peter had been?

Tears were running down his face, his huge eyes betrayed. "I tried to get out on my own, I did but it didn't work. You weren't supposed to see me like that."

Tony jerked forward as Peters' feet met the floor, arms barely holding himself up on the side of the bed. "No, Peter don't try to get up. Sit down! It's okay!"

Peters voice was strangled by tears as he tried to leave, tried to escape the realisation that his heroes had seen him at his weakest and lowest point. Had they seen him give up, had they known that he'd wished for Toomes to end it all?

"I didn't want you to know."

Tony's voice was loud. "Peter, stop! You're going to hurt yourself!

Tony came around the side of the bed as Peter took a step, his hands catching the kid when those frail knees buckled. He caught him in his arms and lowered them both to the floor, wrapping his arms around Peter and pulling him into his lap.

Peter sobbed, feeling more vulnerable than he had in the bathtub. He hadn't wanted anyone to see him begging for Toomes to stop hitting him, he hadn't wanted anyone to see him as the scared, starving boy every time they looked at him.

Tony gathered Peter to his chest, hugging him and rocking slightly in an attempt to calm the kid down. One of his hands met the back of Peters' head, holding him close as he tried to explain.

"Peter, I know it took too long to find you. And I'm so sorry that you were there for so long, but I promise you we were doing everything we could to find you. I watched those videos so that we could use them to get you back. I'm so sorry, kid. I should have got you back sooner. I should have stopped it from happening."

Peter curled his trembling fingers into Tony's shirt, clinging to him as he cried. "I was so scared. I thought he was going to kill me. I didn't know where you were. I didn't know if you were coming."

Tony closed his eyes his lips moving against Peters temple as he spoke. "I'll always come save you, Peter. And I'll always be here for you. You don't have to be scared anymore."

He pressed a kiss to the kid's temple, rocking them both as he attempted to calm himself and Peter down. "It's okay, I'm here. You're safe now. Shhh, Peter, it's okay."

It was the same litany of reassurances that he gave after every one of Peters nightmares. He would jerk awake at Peters screams for help, or his sobbing pleas for Toomes to stop hurting him, hands grabbing at his blankets until his knuckles were white.

The worst was when he'd insist Toomes was coming back. He'd scream and sob that he wasn't safe, that Toomes was coming back for him and it would take far too long to convince him otherwise.

Tony would wrap him up in a hug then too, or talk him down from a panic attack. Some days it was Steve or May or one of the others who had to calm him down but Peters screams came most mornings either way.

Tony still felt personally responsible for everything that Peter was going through, and he would do anything to make it easier for him.

So, if he had to calm him down every morning, or hold him on the hard floor all day, he would.

Thankfully it didn't take all day, and Peter's tears eventually stopped as his breathing evened out. He was exhausted, sagging in Tony's grip, fingers still gripping Tony's shirt and unwilling to let go.

They stayed there until footsteps could be heard approaching, followed by Bruce's concerned voice.

"What happened? Are you two okay?"

He came to kneel in front of them, hand running over Peters' hair as he leant down to see the kids face. Peter nodded, embarrassed as Tony answered.

"We're alright. Peter just had a bit of a meltdown."

Bruce's eyebrows creased further and he ducked down to try and meet Peters' eyes. "Are you hurt?"

The teenager shook his head, still slumped against Tony's chest, his voice small. "I'm okay."

Bruce seemed satisfied and exchanged a look with Tony, who nodded. "Okay, do you want to go back to bed or would you like a change of scenery?"

Tony began to stand, adjusting his arms so they were around Peters' waist, holding him up as Peter answered, sounding sullen. "I have a headache."

Bruce took one of Peters' hands, supporting him as Tony got him back into bed, laying him down and lifting the blankets as Peter curled up on his side.

"Probably from all the excitement. You should sleep."

Tony tucked his blankets over him, as Peter closed his eyes.

Bruce tapped a screen next to his bed, adjusting the light settings in the room before he and Tony went to take their leave.

Tony turned back at the doorway, watching as Peters back rose and fell in even, calmed breaths.

He kept his voice low, for only Bruce to hear. "How long will it take to get him better?"

Bruce sighed. "There's no timeline on something like this, Tony. We just have to be patient; let him heal at his own pace."

Tony shook his head, frustrated. "He can't keep living like this. He's scared all the time, he's too weak to leave bed. He's still not eating. We need to show him the video."

Bruce frowned, knowing the video he meant. "No. Absolutely not. He doesn't need to see that. He needs something positive not...it won't help to make him watch it. What we need to do is get Ned here and set up a session with Sam."

Tony nodded, rubbing tired fingers over his forehead. "Fine. I'll call him. Happy can pick Ned up and I'll talk to Peter about seeing Sam."

Bruce patted his friend on the back and lead him out to the hallway, leaving Peter in peace. "Good. Thank you."

…

Peters dreams were too loud. The horrible piercing tone was back, stabbing at his ears as if someone was digging a pickaxe into his skull.

It hurt so bad he brought his hands up to his ears to try and block out the sound but the tone still exploded through his head.

He let out a groan of pain, unable to hold it back as he began to writhe from the pain. It was so loud and high pitched and it just wouldn't stop.

His fingers began to dig themselves into his skin behind his ears, tearing and pulling. He was so desperate to make it stop he didn't notice the blood beginning to slip down his fingers.

The sound grew in intensity before another was added. There was the shrill piercing tone and now an urgent one, beeping and crashing into his ears as if he were being hit in the head with the force of the sound.

Peter scrunched his eyes shut, digging his nails harder behind his ears as a cry of pain was torn from his mouth. "Make it stop!"

The cell floor was cold on his skin, the room dark and empty until suddenly it wasn't anymore.

Peter snapped awake, the cell gone in an instant and replaced with his room in the compound. He was in bed, he was safe, but he was still in pain.

The awful noises he'd heard in his dream cell were still stabbing at his head, and his fingernails were still digging into the sensitive skin behind his ears.

But he wasn't alone anymore;Tony and Bruce were there, pulling his hands away from his head and yelling things.

"Peter! Let go! Stop!"

May looked scared, a hand over her mouth as she watched Bruce pick up a syringe. "Whats happening?"

Peter was too weak to fight off Tony's hands and his arms were forced down to press against his chest. But the noise was unbearable and he writhed, screaming for relief.

"Make it stop! Please! Ughh it hurts!"

Bruce frowned at the words, freezing where he'd been about to inject Peter with a sedative.

Tony looked over at him, trying to hold Peter down. "Bruce! Do something!"

The Doctor looked around the room, taking in information and piecing it together.

Mays phone had started ringing while Peter slept and Peter had immediately begun covering his ears. And it had only gotten worse once the alarm sounded as Friday had detected Peters elevated heart rate and breathing, and called for help.

He dropped the syringe on the side table and grabbed Mays phone, turning it off before calling out to the AI. "Friday, turn off the alarm."

Both the ringtone and blaring alarm shut off and Peter let out a shaky breath, finally calming down.

Tony watched the teenager slump against the bed, panting, but his muscles were still locked tight and he let out small whimpers of pain with each noise that split the air.

Bruce watched as Peters' teeth clenched at the small sound of a shoe scuffing against the floor, and the way he winced and held his breath when Mays small voice asked what was wrong.

He kept his voice as low as he could but even that made Peters' feet kick against the bed in pain.

"It's his senses. I'll be right back. Don't let his arms go."

Tony nodded, being as gentle as he could while he stopped Peter from grabbing at his ears again.

He hated to see the teenager in pain, especially after all that he'd been through. Peter continued to whimper and struggle, pulling against Tony's hold as he scrunched his eyes shut.

Tony tried to be gentle, not wanting to add more bruises for Peter to heal from, but he couldn't let go. There were already trails of blood slipping down Peters' neck and smeared over his fingers from his futile attempt to stop the noise and he couldn't let it continue.

Bruce came back a few minutes later, holding the pair of headphones Tony had been working on for Peter. He'd made them to block out all sound, with adjustable settings in case Peter wanted to listen but at a low enough volume that his sensitive hearing wouldn't be overwhelmed.

Bruce slipped them on, carefully placing them over Peters' ears. Peter immediately relaxed, body sagging in relief as he let out a relieved sigh. Finally, there was silence.

Tony let go of his wrists and lifted a hand to Peters' cheek instead, brushing his tears away with his thumb.

May watched, hand over her heart as she asked again. "What just happened?"

Bruce panted, looking over at her as he began gathering supplies. "I thought he was having a night terror but I think it was his senses. After Toomes messed with his hearing Peters been a little sensitive to sounds and he's trying to adjust. Tony started making these headphones to help as soon as he noticed Peters sensitivity to loud sounds when he first woke up."

He washed his hands in the sink at the end of the room before snapping on some gloves and picking up a few things to bring back over to the bed.

"He'll be okay, it was just the combination of the nightmare and the sensitivity that made him panic. He was in a lot of pain but the headphones will help."

Tony kept a hand on Peters shoulders the kid opened his eyes, staring up at the ceiling and shifting his gaze to Bruce when he took a stool next to him.

"How long will an episode like this last?"

Bruce shrugged, speaking as he caught Peter's eye and gestured to his ears, holding up an alcohol wipe. "How longs a piece of string? I don't know how long a migraine like this will last, or how often it's going to happen."

Peter nodded to his gestures and Bruce smiled, shifting the headphones forward just enough for him to gain access to the small wounds behind Peters' ears.

He wiped the alcohol over the small crescents made by Peter's nails as Tony grumbled.

"That's not exactly helpful, Bruce."

He wiped the trails of blood away from the teenager's neck and tossed the wipe into a biohazard bin before grabbing a new one. Peter dutifully turned his head to allow him to clean the other ear.

"Sorry. I can do a few more scans of Peters brain to see if I can find anything but I think all he needs is time for his senses to calibrate."

Tony wasn't happy that every answer seemed to be the same. 'He just needs time, we have to be patient.' He was going to go mad if he kept hearing it over and over.

Bruce seemed to know what he was thinking without him having to let out a single sigh.

"I know it's not what you want to hear Tony, and I'm sorry I can't do more but Peter has been through a traumatic experience and unfortunately a lot of the damage is going to be psychological. I can't fix that with antibiotics and band-aids, although I wish that I could."

Tony knew he was right but couldn't stop from feeling useless as he looked down at Peters bright eyes watching them both.

"I just want to make it better for him. I feel like I should be doing something more."

Bruce patted his shoulder as Peter blinked up at Tony, trusting as always even after everything that had happened that day.

" You are helping. I know it feels like you aren't, but Peter is getting better. He'll get back to his old self, you'll see."

Tony gave Peter a smile and a little bit of weight was lifted from his shoulders when he received one back. "Okay. As long as he's safe. That's all that matters."


	9. Chapter 9

"It's got everything you need for the day and I added some extra protein in it for you."

Peter tried to turn his grimace into a smile as Steve handed him a health shake, or breakfast as he called it.

It was pink with seeds and what looked to be oats floating around in it. He squinted at it, carefully sniffing the gooey, liquid meal. "Thanks but...is that porridge at the bottom?"

Steve smiled knowingly. "Don't worry, you can't taste it. The oats will give you energy. Drink it."

Peter nodded, peering around him to see Tony frowning at his phone.

"Um, Tony can I-"

He didn't look up from his phone as he replied, monotone and very dad-like. "No, you cannot have Doritos for breakfast. Do what Steve says."

Peter's mouth fell open as he frowned. "I thought you wanted me to eat more?"

Tony swiped at his phone, eyes on the screen. "I do, but foods that will actually help you get stronger are a priority. You can have Doritos after you finish the shake."

Peter grumbled, swirling his drink and watching the oats float around. Steve laughed, sitting on the edge of his bed. "Oh, come on. You haven't even tried it."

Peter quickly defended, not wanting to be rude. "No, it's great! I really appreciate it. I just-"

Tony finally looked up from his phone, arching an eyebrow at the teenager. "You drink all of that and say thank you to Steve or I'll tell Ned not to come over today."

Peter tried not to pout but it was hardly fair. His voice was distinctly whiney. "But I wanted the cheesy goodness of Doritos. And you promised that Ned could come over once all my tubes were out and my senses were okay."

Tony narrowed his eyes, letting Peter know he wasn't kidding. He jerked his head towards Steve and Peter gave up, trying not to sulk as he smiled at Steve politely.

"Thank you for the shake, Steve." He hesitantly took a sip, expecting something disgusting but actually...

"Oh, this tastes good!"

Steve nodded, pleased and tapped the bottom of the bottle. "I told you. Now drink all of that. I'll go get your hoodie, it's too cold for you in here."

He left as Peter drank some more and Tony came over to the bed.

"You nervous about seeing Ned? Here, let me fix your hair, you've got curls everywhere."

Peter shrugged at the question, sitting still as Tony rearranged his unruly locks. "I don't know. Maybe a little. How much does he know?"

Tony considered his answer. They hadn't told him much and all the different stories were hard to keep track of. "He knows you were taken by Toomes and that you were sick when we got you back. We didn't tell him about anything else."

Peter sighed, relieved. "Good. So he didn't see the tapes?"

Tony shook his head, taking Peters chin and tilting his face this way and that to see if his hair was presentable. "No, I thought you should be able to control how much your friend knows. There, all done. We really need to get your haircut. I'll have Happy call someone this afternoon."

Peter felt his face warm with a smile. Tony pretended like it wasn't a big deal, but he understood what it meant to Peter to be able to have his best friend treat him like he always did. He knew how important it was that Peter had someone that wouldn't look at him with all that pain in their eyes.

"Thanks, Tony."

He met Peters' eyes and smiled. "No problem, kid."

"Sir, Ned has just arrived. Shall I direct him to Peter's room?" Friday's voice came through the room, pleasant and chirpy as always, reminding Peter of Karen. He missed her.

Tony started tidying the space, pushing the tray table to the end of the room and folding clothes. "Yeah, thanks."

Peter had been moved back to his own room, not needing to stay in the med-bay now that Bruce was satisfied his organs were working again. Peter liked it better, sleeping in his own bed. He finally felt like he was actually recovering, although he was still working on getting his strength back.

Steve came back in, holding up clothes for Peter to choose from. "Hoodie or sweater?"

Peter drank more of his breakfast as he looked between the two. "Umm, hoodie. The blue one."

Tony took the rejects, while Steve wrapped the hoodie around Peters back and helped him put his arms through. He zipped it up for him just as Ned walked through the door.

"Peter."

All eyes went to the teenager and his shocked face. Peter was a little nervous, putting his drink down and watching Neds wide, almost frightened eyes. He knew why the fear was there. He looked different, with the long hair and the caved in cheeks. He'd been putting more weight on but he still had a ways to go.

He tried to erase the anxiety from his own voice. "Hey, Ned."

Steve and Tony stood back, the room silent for a moment before Ned surged forward, racing towards his friend and wrapping him up in a hug.

Peter let out a small laugh and hugged him back as Ned 's quick tongue spilt all the questions he'd been dying to ask.

"Are you okay? What happened? They said Liz's dad took you and you were gone for weeks! And then May said you were dying and I couldn't see you and- Dude I missed you so much."

Peter felt his eyes dampen at the slight tremble in Ned's voice and found his to be the same.

"I missed you too."

Tony smiled at the kids, calling out to Ned before he and Steve left them to themselves. "Nice to see you again, Ned. Make sure Peter drinks that whole thing there, and just call out to Friday if you need anything."

Ned released Peter and nodded at the two in the doorway. "Thanks, Mr Stark, nice to see you too. And don't worry, I'll take care of him."

Steve closed the door behind him, and Ned sat on the edge of Peters bed, carefully gripping the pale boy's arms.

"Are you okay, now? Tony said you were healing but you still look sick."

Peter nodded tugging his hoodie closer to him in an attempt to hide his hollow limbs. "I'm okay. How was everything when I was away?"

Ned frowned at Peters choice of words, not liking how he'd made it sound as if he was just on holiday. But he shrugged and answered anyway.

"Everyone at school thinks you were in a car accident. There was a rumour going around that you'd died and people kept coming up to me and hugging me. That was weird. MJ's worried about you but I told her that you were okay. It would be easier to convince her if you'd just answer our texts."

Peter couldn't imagine how hard it would have been for Ned, not knowing what was happening with Peter and having people constantly asking about it.

"Sorry man, I know that must have been hard. Thanks for going with the cover story, it could be a lot messier if everyone knew the truth. The phone thing though...I actually haven't gotten it back yet. I didn't even think about it."

The last time he'd seen his phone was before he'd been taken in the alley. He'd have to ask Tony for it later.

Ned tried for a smile, narrowing his eyes at Peter as he changed subjects. "Hey, what was with Steve and Tony before?"

Peter snapped out of his thoughts, focusing on more pleasant ones. "What do you mean?"

Ned gestured to the door. "Are they your dads now?"

Peter laughed, light and bubbly, feeling like his old self again. "What? No."

Ned wasn't convinced, arching one eyebrow. "Really? Because when I came in here Steve was doing up your hoodie for you, like a dad. And Tony was folding your clothes and doing your hair, like a dad. And you have your own room here, in Tony's tower where they live in, like-"

Peter finished his sentence, nodding. "Like they're my dads, yeah I get it. I guess they kind of are. They take care of me and they're the ones that saved me from…" He couldn't bring himself to say the name, and the mere thought of Toomes was enough to make him shudder.

He blinked, shaking out his shoulders and finished his thought. "Anyway, it's just because we're a team. They all take care of each other too."

Ned smiled, his tone teasing. "Yeah, but you're the baby of the team. They love you the most."

Peter laughed, shoving Ned's shoulder. "I'm not a baby."

Ned didn't relent. "Yeah, you are."

He tilted his head, thinking. "So, if Steve and Tony are your dads, that means Dr Banner is your uncle. Bucky and Sam- I met them once when I tried to come see you, that was weird- they're like your older brothers."

Peter couldn't disagree with him. "Well, you're my brother too so does that mean Tony and Steve are your dads?"

Ned's eyes went wide. "Oh, that would awesome! You wanna be roomies?"

Peter laughed, feeling normal for the first time since he'd been taken. This was exactly why he was so glad that Ned hadn't been told about what happened to him. Ned was normal, Ned was what kept him grounded to his old self. And he couldn't be more grateful to him for that.

…..

"Can I have some water? Please." Peter shook his half-empty water bottle, the liquid sloshing around in front of him.

Tony frowned as he looked over. "It's not even empty yet, Pete."

The teenager smiled, showing all his teeth. "Plleeeeaaasse."

Tony rolled his eyes but Peter could see the smile he was hiding and handed the bottle over. "Fine, I'll get you your water. Change your shirt, Bruce and Steve will be in soon."

He went out to the next room to fill the bottle as Peter groaned. "Ugh, do I have to have a checkup? I just got out of the med bay and you said I'd get to go to school soon. I'm fine, see?"

To prove his point, Peter swung his legs over the side of the bed, pressing his feet to the floor and taking his weight. He'd been doing physical therapy with Steve and he was getting stronger.

It was still hard to walk, given that he had been too weak to for so long, but he managed a few shaky steps before Tony walked back in.

"Peter! Stop doing that!"

He ran in, placing the water bottle down, and wrapping his arms around the kid's waist. Peter rolled his eyes as he was pushed back to bed.

"I'm fine, I can do it by myself."

Tony frowned, concern and anger darkening his tone. "You do it when someone is there with you, Peter. What would have happened if you fell?"

He pushed the teenager back to his bed, lifting his legs back up onto the mattress with a little more force than necessary.

Peter was grumpy too, crossing his arms as he sulked. "I'm not gonna fall, Tony. You don't have to worry about me."

Tony frowned, heart rate slowly coming down after the fight he'd gotten seeing Peter walking on his own. He sighed, voice softer.

"I'm sorry. I know you can do things by yourself, I just don't want you getting hurt again."

Peter looked up at his mentor, seeing the concern in his eyes, and relenting. "Okay. I won't do it again unless someone's here. But seriously, when can I go back to school?"

Tony laughed, ruffling Peters hair as the kid whined. "God, you are such a nerd. You can go back once you get the all clear."

"Bruce said I'm fine."

Tony looked away. "That's not who I meant."

Peter was about to ask him to clarify, when Bruce and Steve walked in, all smiles.

"Hey, Peter. How are you feeling today?"

The teenager was getting seriously tired of answering that question, but he smiled anyway.

"I'm fine. I can eat as much as I used to before and I walked across the room on my own yesterday."

He gave a pointed look to Tony, who rolled his eyes.

Bruce hardly noticed and sat on the edge of the bed. "That's great! Can I see your finger?"

Peter gave him his hand, Bruce holding it and turning it over so his palm was up. "Can you curl your fingers to your palm?"

All eyes watched as Peter did as he was told, but while four of his fingers obeyed his command, his bad finger only curled half-way.

Bruce gave his hand back to Peter glared at the offending digit. "It still won't do it."

The doctor turned, taking a metal rod when Cap offered it. "It's okay, it's actually better than it was yesterday which is good. It's improving. Now for your strength."

Bruce handed the metal pipe to Peter, smiling eagerly. "Let's see if you can bend it."

Peter wasn't sure how well he'd do and wasn't even sure if he wanted to try. What if he couldn't it? What if he could and they sent him home? He took the pipe and squeezed his fingers around the cool metal.

It felt heavy and thick, or like it should have been heavy for anyone other than him. The metal usually wouldn't have been a problem for him, but it didn't immediately bend under his slight pressure, and he stopped.

"I...I don't want to do it right now." He put the pipe down, pushing it away, and looked down at his lap. He didn't know how to explain the way he felt, because he wasn't totally sure himself.

Bruce put a hand on his shoulder and Peter fidgeted at his touch. "It's okay, Peter. Your strength will come back to you. You're still recovering."

Peter didn't say anything but Steve seemed to know what was happening.

"Hey, why don't we get started on your physical therapy today? We can take a walk outside."

Tony watched them closely, trying to translate Steve's silent conversation with Peter into something he could understand.

Peter nodded and Steve knelt down to put the teenager's shoes on for him before he wrapped his arm around Peters' waist to hold his weight as he got out of bed.

Peter kept his head low as they left, concentrating on moving his feet without stumbling.

They made their way outside to the garden, the fresh air making Peter feel less trapped and smothered.

"You wanna talk about it?"

Peter looked up at Steve's voice, frowning. "About what?"

Steve's voice was kind and patient, but still, his answer took Peter by surprise. "The pipe and how you didn't even try to bend it."

Peter stumbled, feet tripping over themselves until Steve tightened his grip around his waist and lifted him up. He righted his feet and tried to get out a response.

"What are you talking about?"

The first Avenger got them walking again, tone calm. "I know you've been having a rough time with recovery, but there's no need to lie. Why didn't you try?"

Something took his concentration, a sound like a rustling bush, and Peter whipped his head around to search for the source, heart pounding.

"Peter?"

It was a bird. Just a bird. Peter turned back around and tried to slow his racing his heart as he answered. "I don't know. I didn't want to."

Steve loosened his grip a little on Peters' waist, letting the teenager take more of his own weight.

"I might be able to help if you explain. Just say whatever's in your head. No judging, I promise."

Peter shrugged, growing more anxious as they walked. He didn't know how to explain. "I don't know, I just didn't want to try and then fail and see you all looking at me like you always do."

"Like what?"

"Like I'm a baby like you pity me."

They stopped walking, Steve frowning as he looked down at him. "We don't pity you, Peter. We're just worried and we want to help you get better. We care about you and if you want to recover you need to try."

Peter shook his head, frustrated, and kept walking. "I do try but...what if I get better and you send me home? I'll just be on my own and you will all get on with your lives without me. I probably won't even be part of the team anymore."

He flinched again when a bird cawed behind them and he turned to the sound, shoulders coming up to his ears as he mumbled to himself. "I'm fine. It's fine. Where's my drink bottle?"

Steve watched him closely, arm loosening from Peters' waist. "That's not true. We all care about you, Peter. If you get better and want to stay at the compound we'll be more than happy to have you. You don't have to worry about that."

Peter turned back around and started up the path, too distracted to notice that Steve wasn't walking with him anymore.

"But what about T-"

He still couldn't say his name. It got stuck in his throat and refused to come out. He tried again. "What about him? He might come back. How am I supposed to fight him off on my own?"

Steve sighed. "He's not coming back."

Peter turned at another noise as he fidgeted. "How do you know that? He got out of prison once before he could do it again. What is that? Where's my drink bottle?"

Steve reached out a hand to placate the teenager but Peter just kept walking down the path back to the compound. "You need to calm down, you're safe. I promise he's not going to come back."

Peter turned, voice raising as he grew angry. "You can't promise that! You can't just lock him up and be sure he's not going to get out again! He knows who I am and if he comes back I won't be able to fight him off and I won't even be able to run away!"

Steve tilted his head, gesturing to Peter as he walked in front of him. "Are you sure about that? You seem to be doing a pretty good job of it so far."

Peter blinked, looking down at his feet and realising he'd been walking on his own for the last five minutes. His voice was quiet. "Oh."

Steve closed the distance between them, placing his huge palms on Peters' shoulders and gripping his arms with a surprisingly gentle touch. "You're safe and you're healing. If you don't want to go home yet, that's okay. But you need to know that no matter where you are, you're safe."

Peter looked up at him, huge eyes trying and failing to hide his fear. "I can stay? Even when I'm better?"

Steve wrapped his arm around his shoulders, walking with him back inside. "Of course."


	10. Chapter 10

"Peter."

Tony crept into the quiet kitchen, watching the teenager as he filled up his drink bottle. Again.

He didn't turn and Tony tried again, voice quiet in the dim room. "It's past eleven, you should be in bed and you've filled your bottle up three times already."

Peter was distracted, eyes focused on his task as he muttered to himself. Tony moved closer, trying to hear the words.

They were mumbled and rushed, worrying Tony before he'd even heard what the words were.

"He can't get past the alarms. Just stay awake and stay focused."

Tony frowned, stepping forward again. "Peter."

The boy jumped, a terrified gasp flying from his mouth and his hand reached behind him in an instant. Before Tony could blink, Peter had spun around and pointed a knife at his mentor's throat.

Tony gripped the kid's wrist, watching as Peters' eyes widened, hand uncurling and dropping the knife to the floor.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry. I thought you were-"

Tony's voice was unintentionally hard. "Toomes? I told you he's gone, Peter. You don't have to worry about him anymore. Come on, you should be in bed."

Peter grabbed his drink bottle before Tony held his arm and pulled him back to his room. The lights came on as they entered, revealing a row of drink bottles and cups all filled to the brim with water and lined up on Peters side table.

Tony released Peters arm as the teenager shuffled over and placed his bottle down with the rest of his collection. Tony watched, shocked and more than a little concerned, as Peter rearranged some of the cups.

Tony walked over, voice hollow. "Peter, why do you have all of these?"

Peter's bright eyes found him in the soft light. "I need them."

Something in Tony's heart broke as he noticed something sticking out from the top drawer of Peters side table, and he knew without looking inside what he would find. It was a store of food, along with his store of water, in case either were taken away from him again.

Tony sighed, tone softening as he gently took hold of Peters' shoulders and guided him back to bed.

"No, you don't. You can have as much water and food as you like. No one's going to take it away. There's no need to store it."

Peter shook his head, well aware of how ridiculous he sounded but unable to reign in the fear always lurking in the back of his mind.

"He could come back. He's already watching me."

Tony felt so tired as he pushed Peter into bed, the kid pressing back against him. "He's not coming back, Peter. How many times do I have to tell you that he's gone before you believe me?"

Peter pushed back, sitting up and refusing to lay back down. "He could just get out of jail again! I've seen him! He's out there and he's waiting for everyone to let their guards down so he can take me back!"

Tony gave up trying to make him lay back and simply squeezed Peters shoulders as he tried to make him understand. "He's never coming back, Peter. I promise you that. You need to sleep so you can…"

He stopped, eyes widening as he took in Peters appearance and connected the pieces. His voice was hollow when he spoke again.

"Peter, when was the last time you slept?"

The teenager averted his eyes, guiltily staring at the floor instead of Tony's face.

It suddenly made sense why Peter was acting so paranoid, why the dark circles under his eyes had begun to stain like bruises and why Tony hadn't heard Peters screams from nightmares for the past four days.

His words came as a whisper. "Jesus, Peter."

The boy didn't look up, voice small. "I'm sorry."

Tony's grip tightened on his shoulders before he pulled the kid to his chest and wrapped his arms around him. Peter instinctively curled against him as Tony tried to keep the tremor from his voice.

"You can't be doing this, it isn't healthy. Why didn't you just come and talk to me if you were scared?"

Peter sagged against his chest, pressing his ear to where Tony's heartbeat, strong and steady, unlike his own that was too fast against his ribcage. "Because you all kept saying that I was safe and that he was gone but it isn't true. You can't promise that he won't break out again, and I've been hearing him. He's out there. I have to be ready."

Tony would have given anything to have Peter just be a normal kid. To have to worry about school and homework and who had a crush on who, not whether an evil man was going to come and hurt him.

"Peter, he's gone. No one's coming to get you. You're sleep deprived and dealing with trauma and it's making your mind play tricks on you. You're safe here. So, you are going to sleep and when you wake up we will have a talk about you seeing Sam."

Peter grumbled as Tony released him from the hug and began pushing him back to lay down. "I don't like talking to therapists."

Tony was relieved when Peter finally snuggled under the covers, yawning as he rubbed his eyes with a curled fist, innocent as a child.

"He's not a therapist, he's a friend and he knows what he's doing. He also knows you and about Spider-Man so you won't have to keep anything from him. He can help and you need it. Go to sleep, we can talk more about it tomorrow."

He pulled the covers up over Peters' shoulders and tucked him in as he sent up a silent prayer that someone would give his kid a goddamn break.

Peter rolled onto this side, curling up under the covers as he closed his eyes.

Tony turned the lights off and went to leave, only for a small voice to stop him. "Tony."

He turned in the doorway, watching as a small hand reached out from under the mound of blankets. "Yeah, Pete?"

"I don't want to sleep by myself."

Tony made his way over, taking up the chair still beside the kid's bed and settled into it. Peter's wide eyes watched him, blinking in the dark until Tony reached over and brushed his hair back. "I'll keep a lookout tonight. You sleep."

Peter was so tired. It didn't take him long to find his eyes growing too tired to hold open and the nightmares approaching as they always did nowadays.

But Tony was there and his fingers brushed back Peter's hair, the backs of his fingers smoothing over his forehead and calming his thoughts until there was only one.

'I'm safe.'

…..

"-and then you times it by two."

"Why?"

"Because it was divided on the other side. Everything flips when you put it on the other side of the bracket."

Thor grunted and took another sip of coffee as he frowned at Peters math homework. "You are smart for your age. You truly take after Tony."

Peter laughed, eyes scrunching as Thor rubbed a huge hand over his head, ruffling his hair. "It's actually easy stuff. The school thinks I was in a car crash, they probably don't want to give me anything new."

Thor looked at the book as if it were offending him.

"I can explain it again if you want."

Thor smiled at Peters offer and stretched out a hand to the side, fingers wide as he summoned his hammer. "I may not be able to do that but there's no need for numbers when you have this!"

Mjölnir hummed happily as it flew to his hand and he gripped it tight, lifting it into the air triumphantly.

"This is all I need in battle!"

Peter cocked his head, scribbling more equations on his page. "I actually have used math in fights. Sometimes if I have to swing somewhere and need to know which trajectory-"

Thor raised an eyebrow, smiling mischievously as he kept his voice low, only for Peter to hear. "Can your math do this?"

Lightning flickered over his fingers, crackling and electrifying the air as it rolled over Mjölnir and Thor's arm.

Peter watched it with wide, awed eyes. "Woah!"

"Thor! What did I say about lightning inside?"

Tony's unhappy voice called out from another room as the lighting made all the lights in the building flicker.

Thor rolled his eyes and shut off the lightning but Peter was still staring at the hammer, amazed.

"That's so cool! Is it true that if anyone can wield it they'll be king of Asgard?"

Thor threw the weapon up, making it flip in the air before it came down back into his palm. "Yes, but I'm the only one worthy enough to hold it."

Peter narrowed his eyes at him. "Bruce said that it moved for Steve."

Thor's smile slipped off and he almost dropped his precious Mjölnir. "That's not true! It barely budged."

"That counts as moving."

Thor regarded the teenager and put his hammer down on the table with a thunk. "Alright, young spider, do you wish to know if you're worthy?"

Peter stood, eyes practically shining with excitement as his hand reached forward, fingers brushing the hilt and about to wrap around the handle when suddenly strong hands wrapped around his middle and he was lifted away from the table and the hammer.

"Nope. Peter is too young to rule Asgard."

Steve lifted Peter easily over his chair and away from the table, putting him down and pushing him towards the door. "Your Aunts here, go see her. As for you, Thor, how long are you going to go on about this? We all know you're worthy, okay? Let it go."

Peter tried not to sulk as he made his way to the lounge to see May and Tony talking on the couch.

May stood when she saw him come in and Peter smiled and made his way over for a hug.

"Hey May."

She squeezed him tight and kissed his cheek. "Oh, you're getting so tall. I swear you're growing another inch everytime I see you."

Her eyes turned sad all of a sudden and she frowned. "Peter, baby, what's this about you not sleeping?"

Peters own smile faded as he looked at Tony, annoyed at being snitched on.

"It's fine I was just having trouble sleeping. I'm okay."

Tony looked embarrassed but didn't relent. "Peter, you need to talk to someone about your issues."

Peter scowled, offended. He crossed his arms over his chest, feeling suddenly defensive. "I don't have issues. I don't need to talk to anyone."

Tony stood, getting annoyed. "Oh, so you looking over your shoulder every two seconds when you're outside, that's nothing? Stocking up water and food like someone's going to starve you again, that's nothing?"

Peter curled his hands into fists. "Shut up, Tony."

He kept going and Peters rage grew with each word. "You keep saying he's coming to get you, and you didn't sleep for almost a week because you don't feel safe! Those are pretty big issues, Peter!"

Peter snapped, voice raising but unable to hide the tremor running through his words. "Shut up! You don't know what this feels like! You don't know what's going through my head every minute of every day! It just doesn't stop!"

Tony sighed, tone dipping into something calmer. "I know. I don't know what's going on with you. But that's why you need to talk to Sam about it. He can help."

May looked like she was about to cry, and Peter felt awful. "We just want you to get better, Honey. You need to feel safe again."

Peter couldn't look at them anymore, he was so tired. He rubbed a hand over his eyes, defeated. "Okay. I'll talk to him."

May wrapped her arms around her nephew, running her hand through the hair at the back of his head. "Thank you."

Peter didn't want to talk about his issues. He didn't even like admitting he had issues. He didn't want to bring up all those bad memories and talk about them and dissect them until they were all he could think about.

But he had to admit he liked Sam and if there was anyone he would trust to talk through with, it would be him.

They met in a small lounge in the compound that afternoon and sat on couches, a table of Legos spread out before them so that Peter could play with something to take his mind off what he was saying. It helped him relax just a little bit as he pressed two small bricks together, eyes focused on his task.

His voice was petulant but Sam didn't seem to mind as he made his own Lego creation.

"I don't want to talk about what happened. Everyone saw the videos anyway."

Sam shrugged. "Okay, we don't have to talk about that. Do you want to talk about what happened today? I saw that Ned came over."

Peter relaxed a little. "Yeah. He brought some comic books and his new LEGO set. Tony helped us build it."

The avenger smiled at how much Peter liked the small bricks. "I think everyone likes Legos. And it doesn't surprise me that Tony wants to spend time with you as much as he can. He really missed you."

Peter nodded, pausing before pressing two pieces together carefully. His hands were so gentle and graceful, and Sam wasn't sure if the kid realised how far he'd come already. He was much stronger and healthier than he had been when they first got him back.

But Peters' voice wasn't as steady as his hands and he realised that he actually did want to talk about something he'd been thinking about for a while.

"I got my phone back. It was with the other stuff that Tony and Steve found in the alley. The day I was...when he got me. My backpack wasn't there though. Tony said he'd get me a new one."

Sam nodded remembering the blood staining the fabric. He wondered if Peter remembered that detail but didn't ask about it.

Peter kept going, feeling as if his chest were at once growing lighter but tighter as he released his thoughts to the air. It felt good to release them but it made him anxious for someone to hear them. "I had a bunch of texts and voicemails on my phone. Lots from May and Tony, some from ned. MJ texted me a bunch too."

Words seemed to tumble from him, thoughts spilling forward where they'd been swirling around his brain. Thankfully, Sam didn't make a big deal out of it. He was a good listener.

"They were worried about you."

Peter nodded "I listened to some of the voicemails. May mostly just cried and asked me to come home. She said she loved me a lot. Tony's ones were sent even after you guys knew I was with… with Toomes. Tony said he was looking for me and that they'd save me. He said he was sorry."

Sam sighed quietly. He had heard Tony doing it and had worried about him. It seemed so long ago now. "Hearing your voice in the recorded message was a way for him to feel like he was talking to you. He found it really hard to cope when you were away."

Peter looked up, sniffling and wiped a hand over his cheek as it fell. That was the exact reason he hadn't wanted to talk to anyone about what had happened. He felt as if he were wound up so tight, like a locked box full of thoughts and fears that wanted to break free and he couldn't let it. He didn't want to unravel, but there he was spilling secrets.

"I talked to you guys too. Just in my head. To make myself feel better when I was scared. I knew you'd come find me."

Sam had been counselling soldiers for a long time and seen grown men and women cry, and it broke his heart every time. But Peter was a kid, he hadn't chosen to go to war, to sacrifice his life for others, he had been taken and Sam was finding it hard to keep his own emotions at bay. They'd all been so worried about him.

"Well, now it doesn't have to be in your head. You can come talk to us anytime Peter. If you're scared or need help or you just want company."

Peter nodded, relaxing once he knew he wasn't going to be babied or pressed for questions. "Thanks, Sam."

They continued on with their Lego and Peter felt more comfortable talking. He sniffed and wiped away the moisture from his eyes before focussing back on the Avenger tower he was making.

Sam's voice was cautious."So, do you want to talk about what's been bothering you?"

Peter looked up from his work, just a peek up through his eyelashes. "Did Tony snitch to you too."

A smile pulled at the corner of Sam's mouth but he kept his eyes on his Lego as he answered. "He did mention something about a new hoarding habit of yours."

Peter grabbed more blocks, feeling more anxious as he talked about it. "Um... it's... water."

Sams' eyebrow went up. "Water?"

Peter patched the hole in the roof of his mini Avenger tower and started on a tiny Hawkeye to perch on top. "I have to know where it is. That I can have some."

Sam nodded, understanding. "Because he didn't give you any."

Peter didn't like talking about Toomes directly, which was stupid since he was always in his mind but that's just the way it was. He nodded shakily. "And food. But it's harder to eat because it made me sick at first."

The Avengers' voice was careful, slow. "You know that you can get it any time you like, though. And you aren't trapped, you can do anything you want. Why do you need to keep it all in your room?"

Peter shrugged, fidgeting more at the sensitive subject. "Well...I was trapped in that cell and I couldn't get out...and then even when you got me back it was like I was still trapped. I was too sick to move and I couldn't leave my bed or my room without someone helping me. So...I don't know I just need to know I can get out and have things when I need it."

Sam was quiet as Peter looked longingly out the window. His eyes grew damp as he watched the clouds outside, and he couldn't stop the tremble in his voice. "I can't even leave the tower. I'm too scared about what might happen. It's like I haven't left that cell, it's just gotten bigger."

He turned to Sam suddenly, tears making their way down his cheeks and making it difficult to look him in the eye, with so much sadness buried there.

"I know I'm not alone anymore and that T- that he isn't here but it still feels like I'm his prisoner and I can't get him out of my head."

Sam's voice was soothing in the quiet room, and Peter scrubbed a hand over his cheek, annoyed at his tears.

"I know that must feel lonely and scary but it's actually quite normal."

That took Peter by surprise and he sniffled as he watched Sams calm face. "Really?"

"Yeah, you'd be surprised how many soldiers come back from battle thinking that they're still there. I felt it, and so did Steve. That's how we first connected when we met. We get back from war and suddenly the comforts of home aren't familiar. The people that we were before seemed like strangers. Our beds are too soft after using rocks for pillows for so long and it's hard to sleep. I knew one guy that refused to stay in his own house. He built a tent in the front yard and slept there instead."

Peter leant forward, eager to hear more. "I keep thinking he's watching me."

Sam nodded, mirroring Peters posture. "I felt like that too. I couldn't let my guard down without worrying about how vulnerable I was to an attack. But you know what?"

Peters' eyes were huge and trusting. "What?"

Sam smiled. "I was safe. It didn't feel like it for a while, but I was. And slowly I realised that. It'll happen for you too, Peter. I know that it can take a while and it can be really scary but I promise no one's getting to you. And, hey you're getting stronger every day. I've seen you training, you can handle yourself."

Peters face warmed and he almost smiled, as he shrugged, blushing. "I managed to flip Steve yesterday."

A laugh burst from him, small and giggly and it made Sam smile wider. "He was so surprised."

Sam picked up his Legos again, Peter following suit. "See, you're getting stronger Peter. We all knew you could do it. And everything else will get easier. Just keep trying."

Peter felt as if something had been taken from his shoulders, a little of the weight there relieved by their talk and he was suddenly so grateful that Tony had made him talk to Sam.

Sam was different than the therapists he'd been made to see when he was little. Sam didn't press for anything and he didn't tell Peter there was anything wrong with him. All he did was listen and reassure him when his words faltered.

Peter had to admit that he felt better afterwards, and he told Sam he could tell Tony and May about it.

Tony watched Peter walk back to his room, noting how his shoulders didn't slump quite as much. He turned to Sam eager to hear any kind of good news. "How did he do?"

Sam smiled. "Great. He's looking forward to going back to school and starting training. He still doesn't like too much light or noise when he first wakes up, but he said that the new settings you had Friday initiate are helping. He hasn't talked about what happened but I'm not pushing him to. He's focusing on the future and that's a good thing."

"Thank you so much, Sam."

The soldier looked to his teammate, sombre. "He does have some issues and I'd say he's dealing with PTSD, but he's willing to work through them. We talked a little about the water and not sleeping and he's going to try to work on that. All he needs is your patience and support. It's a big transition and it's hard on him but it will get easier."

May looked so relieved she could cry. "Thank god. I wasn't sure what we should be doing. I just want to help him."

Sam rubbed his hand gently over her arm. "Trust me, you help just by being here and loving him. He'll be okay."

Back in Peter's room, the teenager looked over his water bottle collection and thought about what Sam had said. Maybe he didn't need eleven on his desk. Maybe he could just have some.

It felt wrong to waste water when it had been like gold to him in his cell back at the prison, so he took a few cups over to the potted plants he had in the corner of his room.

It still felt wrong to pour them out, but he thought about the way he'd flipped Steve in training and how easy it had been. He was strong, he could do it.

"Here, Tom, you can have my water." He poured out a cup into the pot, before pouring the second into another.

"There, Tessa. All better."

It was small but it was progress and he smiled to himself, feeling just a little stronger than he had that morning.


	11. Chapter 11

Sam sighed, arms crossed as he stood leaning against the wall in the corridor. Tony, Bruce and Steve were watching Peter through the office window as he texted on the couch, Lego spread around him from his and Sam's session.

"He's doing better. He doesn't feel the need to store up water but he still keeps one drink bottle with him wherever he goes."

Steve saw the bottle sitting right beside Peter on the couch, squished between Peters thigh and the side of the sofa.

Sam continued. "It's progress but he said he still looks for exits and escape routes out of any room he goes in. He doesn't want to be trapped again and I think it's developed fully into claustrophobia."

Tony nodded, tone worried and low. "He won't let anyone close his bedroom door at night. He made Friday promise to always keep it open."

Bruce shrugged. "He's getting better with food though. He put on another ten pounds."

Sam pushed away from the wall, scratching the back of his head anxiously. "There's another thing. I'm a little concerned that he's still not convinced Toomes is gone. He's trying to let it go but I know he still feels as though Toomes is going to come back. He's paranoid, it's not good for him and he doesn't feel safe."

He paused, watching the three men carefully, fearing their reactions. "I think we should tell him the truth about Toomes."

Steve spun around, frowning and rejecting the idea the same instant that Tony agreed to it.

"Good, someone else agrees."

"No."

Steve turned to Tony, a restless energy coming off him. "Are you serious? This is not what he needs!"

Tony flung a hand out, pointing to the kid on the couch in the other room. "Not what he needs? He's scared all the time! He thinks that monster is coming back for him! He should know the truth!"

Steve shook his head, resolute as he crossed his arms and turned back to the window. "You weren't there when it happened, Tony. It's not something I'm proud of and it's definitely not something I want Peter knowing about."

Sam looked between the two, feeling the tension, and held up a hand before Tony could say anything else. "Fine. He doesn't have to know exactly what happened, he doesn't need details. We can just tell him that Toomes died trying to fight his way out."

Steve's voice was low, carrying the full weight of his authority. "I said no, Sam."

Sam deflated, stepping back. "Okay. I'll figure out something else. Anyway, he's okay for school. Small steps at first, maybe a few classes at a time but he's okay."

Steve nodded. "Good." And turned to leave, walking away from the conversation and the men watching him.

…..

Peter scrubbed a towel over his head, watching himself in the mirror as it made his hair stick up at all angles.

"You like your new haircut?"

Bucky leant in the doorway, smiling. Peter shrugged. "I guess."

The soldier ran a hand through his long locks, teasing. "It's not as nice as mine of course, but it suits you."

Peter smiled and combed his hair back into place with his fingers. "Thanks."

Peter was finally going back to school. It was terrifying of course but he was excited about getting his life back to normal. His hair had been cut and he and Ned were going to go together.

Everyone at school thought he had been in a car wreck and his teachers, thankfully, had agreed with May and Tony, that Peter should be eased back into school.

Tony came bustling into the bathroom, brand new backpack in hand, worrying about everything at once. "Okay, I talked to your teachers and we've agreed that you'll only be going to your afternoon classes. You don't have to worry if you're behind on school work, we'll catch you up slowly. Ned will be with you the whole time and if you feel like its too much just call me and I'll come get you, okay?"

Peter nodded and pulled at the hem of his sweater. "Thanks. I'll be okay."

He tried to hide how nervous he was, not wanting to make Tony's own anxieties worse.

It was a big step for Peter but it was hard on his mentor too. After losing the kid and then fighting so hard to get him back Tony was more than a little reluctant to let him out of his sight.

Frantic thoughts kept invading his mind, telling him not to let him go, that it was too risky, and he silently reminded himself that Peter could lift Steve over his head without breaking a sweat. He'd be fine.

Bucky noticed his discomfort and nudged his arm with an elbow, voice dipping low so Peter wouldn't hear.

"Nat and I can watch the school if you want. No one will see us, we'll keep an eye on him."

Tony watched as Peter smiled down at his phone, texting Ned a bunch of emojis as Tony shook his head.

"Thanks but I need to let him do this. He's not even my kid, I can't be helicopter parenting him. Thanks though, Buck. Really, I appreciate it."

Tony wasn't the only one worried about Peter. Ned fussed and mother-henned like he was Peter's actual mother.

"Did you have breakfast? I bought some extra lunch in case you needed more and I bought an extra water bottle. I told MJ that you were coming and a bit nervous and she promised that she would punch anyone in the face that got too close. I don't know if that's helpful or not but it's how she shows she cares so-"

Peter let out a laugh and patted his best friends shoulder where they waited in Tony's garage for Happy to bring the car around. "Dude, I'm fine. It's okay, it's just school."

Ned nodded, forehead creasing as he looked down at his shoes, hands worrying at his bag straps.

Peter leant down to try and catch his eyes, voice comforting. "Are you nervous?"

Ned's head sprang up, eyes wide. "Yes! I'm kind of freaking out dude! What if something happens and I don't know what to do? What if people ask too many questions?"

Peter pressed his lips together and leaned over to the sports car parked nearby. He dipped down and gripped the bottom of the car with one hand, lifting the side of the vehicle a foot off the ground with ease.

Ned stared, mouth falling open.

Peter smiled and put the car back down. "I think I'll be okay. Bruce said I'm all healed up and ready to go to school and I know the whole...PTSD thing is still there but I talked to Sam about it and he said I was okay to go to some classes."

Ned sighed, relieved. "Okay, good. Sorry for worrying so much but dude, the last few months have been really hard. For everyone."

Peter would always feel bad that the people around him were so affected by what had happened and he hated that his pain made others hurt. But it was also just a sign that he had lots of people that loved him so much that his pain was their own. And it also meant he didn't have to shoulder it alone.

He gave Ned a reassuring smile and held his arms out for a hug. "I know. Thanks for being here."

Ned smiled, happily accepting the hug, his voice muffled against his friend's shoulder. "Of course."

"I know this is a tender moment but if you two hug for any longer you're going to be late."

Happy's voice wasn't as grumpy as it usually was and Peter released Ned, smiling at the driver. "Sorry Hap, thanks for driving us."

Happy grumbled, but Peter knew it was half-hearted. "Don't call me that."

…

Peters' heart fluttered in his chest, making him feeling nauseous as he and Ned stepped out of the car and out onto the curb outside his school. He gripped his bag straps tight enough to turn his knuckles white, anxiety running through him so fast and intense it was as if he'd been electrocuted.

He may have acted as though it were no big deal but damn it was scary to go back to his old life after having left it for so long.

Ned shut the car door behind them and Peter flinched hard. He blinked, trying to calm down as Ned's hand found his shoulder.

"You okay? We can go home if you want."

Peter shook his head, swallowing and taking a breath. "No. I can lift cars and fight aliens, I can go to school."

Ned guided him forward. "Yeah, you're Spider-Man, you can do anything."

Peter had been in some scary situations before and he'd never been that great at socialising, but walking into school to have everyone stare at you was something else.

Their eyes were wide, roaming over him and searching for clues of what happened, any evidence of the apparent car accident they'd be told about. He ducked his head, staring at the floor and trying not to curl into himself when a voice came over the noise, annoyed and loud.

"What? You guys have never seen a Peter before? Stop staring!"

Ned's hand rubbed comfortingly over Peters' shoulder as he kept his head down, MJ's voice was quieter as she came to stand in front of him.

"You okay? You're in one piece that's good."

Peter didn't know what to say and didn't look up but he saw Ned and MJ exchange a look before she spoke again.

"We have maths next, we should go. And you should know I'm not going to go easy on you in decathlon practice. We had to sub in Flash and he just isn't as good at physics as you. Or anything as you."

Peter peeked up at her, seeing her face held the same annoyance it usually did. She didn't look like she was pitying him, in fact, she looked rather unimpressed. Good old MJ.

He gave her a small smile. "I got hit by a car, I didn't get my brain removed. I'll be fine for the decathlon. I've been studying at home."

Ned smiled, noting that Peter joking about his fake accident was a good sign and he pushed his friend forward to head to class.

"Yeah, come on MJ. He's not stupid. He even did all his homework like a nerd instead of using his accident as an excuse to get out of it."

Thank god he had his friends to ground him. Their jokes made it easier on him.

Class was easy, people got bored and stopped staring and Peter felt like his old self. It was good.

He sat in his seat, doodling in his book as the teacher droned on about something Tony had already taught him and he felt okay again. Really okay, like he was the same old Peter he had been before Toomes.

Until it happened.

He was eating lunch, ignoring the way Ned was watching him and then all of a sudden everyone's eyes were back on him.

A whole cafeteria full of faces stared at him, shock dropping their jaws and making their eyes wide. They whispered and pointed at him, even the teachers milling around were staring.

MJ was looking down at her phone as Peter's heart began hammering in his chest but this time when she looked up at him, there was fear in her eyes. She was pale, staring at him with the same shock and pity as everyone else.

Her voice was thin and shaky. "God, Peter. You said it was a car accident."

Fear drove through his chest like a knife, or something bigger, more like a lance, shoving through him and ripping him to shreds. She knew. They all knew.

Ned reached over and tore her phone from her hand but he froze when he saw what was on the screen.

It was a breaking news report, the video playing when Ned tapped it, sound tinny from the crappy phone.

"A local teenager was kidnapped and tortured by Adrian Toomes for more than a month before he was finally rescued. Peter Parker is reported to be alive and recovering but will not release any statements to the public. We have received a video from the rescue, however, it is disturbing and viewer discretion is advised."

A blurry image appeared as footage played, footage that Peter had no memory of.

It was taken outside the prison, police rushing around in the background as the video focussed on a gurney that was being pulled towards an ambulance. Tony and Bruce ran alongside it, talking to the medics that were pulling it, and strapped to the bed, looking barely alive, was Peter.

There was a shock blanket covering most of him but even from the distance the video was taken from, you could see how skeletal and sickly he was. There was blood stained through his hair and over what little of his face could be seen. There was a tube coming from his mouth, the blue bite block covering much of his face.

Tony was holding his limp hand and talking to Peter as they loaded him into the ambulance, and the newscaster's voice came again.

"The Avengers lead the rescue and apprehended Toomes. We have approached them about the incident but they refuse to comment."

The video changed to a shaky image of Tony, looking pissed as he shoved past reporters to try and get to his building's door. "If any of you go near him or his friends and family I will personally see to it that you never see sunlight again. He's a kid and he's trying to recover. Now get the fuck off my lawn." He aimed his reactor beam at them and they scattered, video cutting there.

Peter couldn't breathe. The news reporters voice warping in his ears as his head spun.

"We did, however, visit Toomes' daughter."

Ned let out a breath, words shaky with emotion. "Oh god, Liz."

The video showed her trying to push past a crowd of reporters, tears streaming down her face as people screamed at her, pushing microphones towards her face.

Their questions overlapped each other, voices too loud.

"Liz, what do you have to say on your father's behalf?"

"You were classmates with Peter. Were you close? Have you visited him while he recovers?"

Her face was twisted in grief as she turned to scream at them, voice choked with sobs.

"I didn't know!"

Her eyes found the camera and she spoke directly into it, tears dripping from her chin as her lip wobbled. She looked so scared. "I'm so sorry, Peter."

Peter couldn't hear anything else after that, his heart pounding too hard against his ribs, drowning out all other sounds.

Ned's eyes were full of tears as he looked up at him, phone forgotten, and his mouth moved but Peter couldn't hear the words.

Everyone was still staring at him. They all knew. What was he going to do? How was he ever going to escape it?

Peters breaths were already coming fast enough to make his head spin, but then he realised something.

Liz knew. She would hate her father for what he did. And Toomes wouldn't let him live for that.

Peters' feet hit the floor with a thump his ears didn't register, as he shot to his feet and turned, sprinting out of the room.

He couldn't breathe, couldn't escape. Toomes was coming for him.

He ran as fast as his legs could carry him, body trembling and chest heaving as he tried to draw in a decent breath. It felt as if his ears were blocked, the only sound hissing and crashing like the ocean.

His instincts told him to run, to hide, to get away before Toomes found and killed him, and he did just that, pumping his legs faster without any notice for how they ached and burned.

He didn't know where he was going, or how long he'd been running before something came up behind him. It was huge and fast and he screamed as its arms came around him from behind.

His spidey senses screamed at him, telling him he was in danger and he knew who it was. Toomes. It had to be.

His heart beat so fast and hard he felt as if it could explode right from his chest, and he struggled against the strong arms, pummeling the thing with his shaking fists as he begged Toomes to let him go.

The hold didn't give, and the arms pulled him back, hands gripping Peters' wrists and pinning his flailing limbs to his chest. Tears fell down his cheeks as he sucked in ragged gasps between his screams but all at once his hearing returned and all he heard was Tony.

"Peter, stop! I got you, you're safe! Stop fighting me!"

Peter's legs fell out from under him as he slumped, exhausted, against Tony's chest. The Avenger caught him easily and lowered them both to the ground, his Iron-Man suit whirring quietly as it adjusted.

Peter gasped, turning in Tony's hold to see his worried face. "T-Tony?"

He shook all over, shivering so hard he looked as if he were in shock, as Tony turned him, releasing the boy's arms and allowing him to see him.

"I'm here, Peter. You're safe, it's okay."

The teenager let out a sob and launched himself forward into Tony's arms, his own wrapping around Tony's neck as he hugged him.

"They all know! It was on the news, everyone knows!"

Tony hugged him back, hand coming up to bury his fingers in the hair at the back of the kids head. "I know. I'm so sorry. I don't know how they found out. I tried to keep it quiet as long as I could. I had my lawyers all over it ever since those idiot reporters came to me weeks ago."

Peter buried his face in his mentor's neck, not even noticing when Tony slipped his arm under Peters' knees and lifted him from the ground.

He sobbed, breaths still coming too fast. "Toomes is going to see it. He's going to kill me for making Liz hate him."

Tony's hands tensed where he held him before he shook his head and held Peter tighter. "No. No, he's not coming near you. I promise, Peter."

Peter shivered, hands squeezing on Tony's armour, holding tight as Tony looked down at him, speaking close to Peters' ear but directing his words to someone else.

"Yeah, I got him. He's shaking so bad and he's breathing way too fast but he's safe."

If Peter's gasps hadn't been so loud he would have been able to hear Steve's voice through Tony's coms. "Thank god you found him. Happy's handling the school and Peppers dealing with the news stations and reporters. I'll tell Bruce and Sam to meet you in the med bay."

Peter was light headed and the world swirled around him as Tony lifted him away, flying back to the compound.

Bruce, Sam and Cap were all waiting for him as they arrived and Tony set the kid down on the hospital bed.

Peter was still crying, unable to calm down, and Tony stepped out of his suit, sending it flying away as Sam tried to talk to the scared teenager.

"Peter, I know you're overwhelmed right now but I need you to try and focus. Use those calming techniques we talked about."

Bruce wrapped a blanket around Peters' shoulders as he shook his head, words smeared into moans by his sobs.

"I can't. I can't breathe. My chest is too tight. It hurts." His hands found his chest and clawed at his sweater, desperate to make the pain stop.

Sam took Peters hands in his and squeezed, tugging gently on them until Peter looked at him. "Yes, you can. You're okay and we're all right here. You're going to look at me and we're going to count together. Just focus on the numbers, going backwards from one hundred. Understand?"

Peter squeezed Sams hands back, nodding as his teeth chattered.

"100, 99, 98, come on, Peter. Count with me."

Peter tried, pushing the numbers past his wobbling lip as he concentrated on Sams warm brown eyes and the soft squeeze of his hands.

It took fifty-seven numbers for Peters breaths to calm and by a hundred he had almost stopped crying. He slumped, exhausted as he and Sam finally got to one.

Sam leant forward, letting go of Peters' hands to hug him instead, Peter gripping onto him tight and sinking into his embrace.

Sam's voice was soothing and calm as he held Peter against his chest, large palms rubbing over the teenagers back.

"You're okay. Everything's alright."

Tony watched the scene with his knuckles pressed to his mouth. He was going to kill whoever leaked the police report and video. He'd go after anyone that hurt his kid.

Steve noticed his expression and tugged on his arm, pulling him out of the room.

He didn't get a chance to say anything before Tony was pacing, hands running through his hair as he fumed.

"I'm going to have those reporters fired. The whole damn station can go down!"

Steve sighed. "Tony-"

The man took no notice, turning to him with a glare. "They had footage! There's no way they should have that! And they released his name! He's a minor, Steve! They can't do that!"

Steve held up his hands to try and calm his teammate down, eyebrows raised. "I know, Tony. We'll handle it. Right now you need to calm down."

Tony hung his head, covering his eyes with a hand as his voice shook. "He's been through enough. He didn't need this. It's going to put him back and undo everything he and Sam have been working on."

Steve looked back to where Peter was falling asleep in Sam's arms, looking so small under the blanket wrapped around him.

"I know. I'm angry about it too."

Tony lifted his face, clenching his jaw as unshed tears shone in his eyes. "Dammit, I can't lose it like this. He needs me."

Steve knew how he felt and offered a respite from his responsibility. "It's been a long few months. I think you're entitled to a few tantrums, especially after today. Come on let's take a break."

Tony took one last look at the kid, wrapped up in Sams capable arms, with Bruce hovering nearby should he need him. Peter was safe for now.

"Okay. Thanks, Steve."

…

Peter's head pounded as he woke, a leftover remnant of his panic attack. It stabbed through his eyes and made his jaw ache.

"Peter? You waking up?"

The teenager groaned softly, rolling onto his back where he'd been lying on his side and he felt fingers squeeze his own.

The voice belonged to Sam, who'd dutifully stayed with him while he slept to make sure the nightmares stayed away.

He didn't open his eyes, the low light coming through his eyelids already too much and he buried his face in his pillow instead.

Sam sighed. "Migraine huh? Friday, adjust room to Peter migraine settings, please."

The light sank away, a welcome relief, and Sam's hand slipped from Peters.

He almost wanted to ask him to stay, not wanting to be alone after that difficult morning but he didn't know how long Sam had already been sitting with him and he didn't want to be even more of a bother than he usually was.

A tiny, half-hearted whimper fell from Peters' mouth and he felt Sam's footsteps falter, pausing.

"I can stay if you want. You don't have to be alone if you don't want to."

Peter pressed his face further into his pillow, pulling his limbs towards his chest and curling into a ball. He hated being so vulnerable, so needy. But...being alone meant his thoughts were too loud and he'd have no one to chase them away.

He wanted Sam to hold his hand, or Steve and Bucky to guard the door and protect him, or Tony's hand rubbing over his back like he did to calm him down from nightmares.

The bed dipped, a hand finding his shoulder and Sam's voice was closer, soft and reassuring.

"How about we put your headphones on and you can come hang out with everyone. They'd love to see you."

Peter nodded and sat up, shoulders hunched around his shoulders as the change in position made his head throb.

Sam pulled the headphones Tony made from a drawer and carefully slipped them on over Peters' ears.

The relief was instant. All noise was eliminated and the padding around his ears vibrated softly, sending signals into his pressure points to relieve the pain.

His shoulders relaxed and his tense muscles all melted like jelly. Damn, he loved Tony's inventions.

Peter finally opened his eyes, relieved to find the dimmed lights didn't hurt his eyes. Sam smiled at him and stood, leading the way to the living room to find the others.

Friday dimmed lights for them as they went, ensuring Peter wouldn't be overstimulated, and he saw Tony throw his hands up at the light change. He looked irritated, mouth moving as he presumably grumbled about not being able to see the food he was cutting up, but it all melted into a smile when he saw the reason for the dimmed settings.

He dropped the knife on the bench and wiped his hands before hurrying over and taking Peters arms in his hold, leaning down to meet the kid's eyes better.

"Are you okay? You scared me." Peter watched his mouth move, not hearing anything but understanding the words and nodded, pointing to his headphones as he whispered back.

"I'm okay. Thanks for making these for me."

Tony smiled again but the concern didn't leave his eyes as he pulled Peter in for a hug.

Peter felt safe there against Tony's warm chest, arms wrapped protectively around him and he curled his arms to his chest, huddled in his mentors hold. Tony's hands rubbed over his back, rubbing circles over his shoulder blades, just how Peter had wanted in his room.

He could feel the vibrations of Tony's voice from his chest as he spoke to someone above Peters' head before his arms loosened around him and he leant down again.

Peter watched his mouth moving, deciphering the words without sound. "Come sit down."

He led him over to the bench, sitting him down before bringing his chopping board over so he could finish up lunch without leaving the kid.

Peter watched his hands move, easily cutting carrots and tomatoes and adding them to a simmering pot. The rhythmic movement and warm sweet scent filling the kitchen helped to chase away the anxiety, and he found himself relaxing, enjoying the quiet moment in the kitchen.

That was until something buzzed, vibrating and sending a shock down Peters' spine. He jumped, muscles immediately tensed again.

Tony looked over at him, frowning in concern.

The buzz came again and Peter looked towards where it was coming from. Buzz.

It was his phone on the counter. Buzz.

Tony followed his eyes and noticed it, picking it up and frowning at the screen. He must have been getting a lot of messages. Probably from nosey people that wanted to know about the story on the news. Tony glared at the phone, fingers squeezing around it until they were white before he took a deep breath and turned it off.

The buzzing stopped and Tony tossed the phone down.

But Peter still felt on edge. He felt safe in the compound but really, he wasn't completely safe there. People could still get to him, the reporters had tried to and he hadn't known. Toomes could come and he wouldn't know until it was too late.

Peter tapped the side of his headphones, decreasing the sound dampeners so that it wasn't total silence. He could hear little things, enough to be aware but not enough to hurt his head just yet.

Something moved out of the corner of his eye and he flinched again, hands leaping in front of him to ward off whatever it was.

It was a curtain, blown inwards by the wind. Stupid.

Still, it was an opening, a vulnerability. He stood and went to close the window and then closed the curtains too.

He could feel Tony's eyes on him as he walked through the kitchen to the living room, shutting all the curtains tight. When he went back to his seat Tony was watching him with a curious expression.

Peter lifted a hand, curling his fingers into a child's mime of a gun, pointing it to the window and making the appropriate sound effect. His eyes were huge and serious and Tony frowned, slowly shaking his head.

"No, Peter."

Peter looked away, shoulders tensed again up near his ears. He needed to stay alert, no more relaxing and feeling safe. He needed to keep an eye out in case Toomes tried anything. He would, he had to, after seeing the news and what Liz had been like. She wasn't supposed to know, no one was.

He didn't even want to think about how hard it was for May, or for Ned who he left at school, alone to deal with the fallout. God, MJ was going to be so mad at him for lying to her.

He'd never live it down. He'd always be the victim. Well, this victim wasn't going to let anyone get the drop on him. He would stay alert.

He knew Sam would tell him to focus on the good things and let the whole Toomes coming back to kill thing go, but the fear of being watched and prayed on crawled under his skin and burned him up like a fever.

Tony was watching him, still frowning but Peter didn't have time to pretend he was fine. His mind was busy racing through all the ways Toomes could get inside, or get to him, and he needed to protect himself.

The curtains were closed, no way to use a sniper, and everyone knew the compound had state of the art security and he could shut the building down in an instant if he had to. Toomes could go after his family, but Tony had already said he was going to have someone watching them in case the reporters wanted to try and take statements again.

Footsteps vibrated the floor and Peter spun seeing Steve walking through the kitchen harmlessly. He needed to get a handle on himself and calm down, focus.

He made a small list in his head.

Stay alert. Don't let your guard down. Don't go to sleep until you know you're safe. Don't leave the compound.

His head didn't hurt so bad anymore and he carefully slipped his headphones off, careful not to make any loud noises that could bring the migraine back. He'd need all his senses if he wanted to stay safe.

Of course, in his need to stay safe, he disregarded Tony and the other Avengers as a threat and tuned them out, so he didn't notice them talking to each other about him until it was too late.

They came up behind him, slow and wary, watching him as if he were a scared animal that could bolt at any moment.

Tony's hands found the tops of his arms and pulled him towards him, away from the curtains he'd carefully shut.

"Peter, what are you doing?"

Sam and Steve were watching him and he knew he sounded crazy but he barely cared anymore.

"I'm making sure no one can get to us."

Steve's gaze flickered between Sams and Peters faces as he tentatively spoke, words hesitant as if he didn't really want an answer to his question.

"You mean Toomes?"

Peter nodded, not understanding why they weren't as worried as him. Did they really think Toomes wouldn't try to get back at him?

"Yes."

Tony's hands tightened on his arms and his voice cracked. He sounded so desperate and so tired. "God, Peter how many times have we talked about this? When are you going to believe that you're safe? I thought you were getting better?"

Peter shook his hands off, taking a step back as his heart rate picked up. He was getting angry.

"Don't talk to me like I'm stupid, Tony. You're the ones that are being crazy! Toomes is going to get back at me for Liz finding out! I can't just sit here and pretend that he's going to be fine with it!"

Tony closed his eyes, shaking his head as he let out something akin to a sob. "God, I can't do this again. Steve, we have to tell him."

Peter frowned at that, watching the three faces in front of him as Steve clenched his hands into fists and Sam sighed.

Steve's voice was hard. "No. He shouldn't see something like that, Tony. It's disgusting and traumatising-"

Tony threw his hands up, voice rising in anger. "He's already traumatised! This has to end!"

Peter didn't know what they were talking about as he watched Sam try to get a word in between them. But his hearing began picking something else up, tuning out their argument to hear better.

It was a song, a beat, a familiar pattern. And then words came and Peters' heart began hammering in his chest, far too fast.

"Open air for you to breathe in."

Peters breath started to come in pants, ripped from his lungs before the oxygen could get to his brain and his head spun as the words kept coming, just like they had in his cell.

"I'll share my covers if you wanna sleep

I guess we're both pretty lucky"

Peters' hands began to shake as a sharp jolt of fear speared through his chest, adrenaline spiking.

"In a world of disaster

I got more good than I asked for

I'll take this high day any day of the week"

Peter wasn't in control anymore. There was no strength within him, no calm, no plan. A shaky whisper fell from his mouth before he could form a single coherent thought.

"He's here."

Sam's voice was distant, overshadowed by Peters own harsh drags of air and he barely registered the words.

"Peter? You're hyperventilating."

Peter backed away from the direction of the music, the beat drifting from a room down the hallway. His stumbling feet took him backwards until his back was pressed against the wall.

"He found me. I'm going to die."

His knees gave out and three pairs of hands jerked forward, his name shouted in concern as he fell to the floor.

The song was unforgettable, engraved in his brain and linked directly to his nightmares. It was the same damn song that Toomes had played over and over in Peters cell and it was playing again, here, where he was supposed to be safe.

Peter scooted backwards, pressing his back hard against the wall and bringing his hands up to his ears as tears came fast. "Make it stop! Please!"

Toomes was taunting him, making sure he knew he was coming, playing with his prey before he killed it.

Sam knelt down in front of the teenager as Peter sobbed, trembling all over and barely getting a breath in.

"Peter, whats wrong?"

Peter couldn't move, fear paralysing him. The music brought him back to that cell and trapped him there, making him feel as weak and vulnerable as he had been then.

He dug his fingers into the skin behind his ears, the pain pushing away the memory just for a moment as he tried to get enough air to respond to Sam.

"You have to help me! Please, he's here!"

Warm blood made his fingers slip against his ears and Steve came forward and grabbed his wrists, pulling them away from his head. "Peter, stop!"

Peter kicked out, trying to pull his hands back. They needed to protect him, they needed to stop Toomes.

Tony watched as Peter screamed, slamming his head back against the wall as he begged for them to save him.

It was the music, it had to be. Tony had only seen Peter behave this way in the footage from the cell. He found his voice, barely managing to raise it over Peters keening cries.

"Friday! Stop that music!"

The music shut off but Peter's wails didn't let up. They were torn from his throat, making his voice sound rough and broken and Tony couldn't take it anymore.

"Peter, Tomes is dead!"

Steve turned to him, shocked. "Tony!"

A tear fell down Tony's cheek and he shook his head. "We can't keep doing this, Steve. He has to know."

Peters eyes were squeezed shut and he continued to pull against Steves hold on his wrists. He shook his head, sobs warping his voice. "No. You're lying. He's here."

Tony knelt, taking one of Peters' hands in his and squeezing his fingers until Peter opened his eyes and looked at him.

"It's true, I promise. He died trying to escape when we rescued you."

Peter's teeth chattered from the intensity of his fear and he squeezed Tony's hand back, tears leaving trails down his skin.

"No."

Tony insisted, pulling his screen from his back pocket. "Yes. Friday, bring up the footage from Peters rescue."

The screen lit up with a video from the prison's security cameras. Peter's breath halted in his chest at the sight of Toomes there. He was smiling, the look on his face sick and twisted as he pointed an alien-made gun at The three Avengers in front of him. Sam was in the doorway behind him so he couldn't escape but holding his position as Toomes sneered at Steve.

"I'll get back out and I'll come after him or I'll send someone else after him. Your bug-boy will never be safe as long as I'm alive."

Steve was scowling. "Shut up, Toomes. Come quietly and we won't have to tell your daughter about what you've done."

The fire and fury in Toomes' eyes grew ever hotter and he flicked a switch on the side of his gun, a hum rumbling from it as he charged the weapon.

"Don't you bring her into this."

Sam looked disgusted. "You're the one that started hurting kids, not us."

Toomes' eyes were dark but the smile came back, voice smug. "Are you sure you even want little Pedro back? He's nothing now. I broke him."

He was proud of himself and taking great joy from the pained looks on the Avengers' faces.

Natasha sounded as deadly as she ever had. "I'm going to kill you."

The coms came to life, just loud enough for Toomes to hear the fear in Rhodey's voice.

"We found Peter but its bad. We need medics here. Have you taken Toomes down yet?"

Steve kept his voice quiet as he answered, eyes still trained on Toomes. "Working on it."

That cruel smile grew on the face of the bastard in front of them, finding pleasure in their pain.

"You can't save him, it's too late."

Steve was losing his patience. "Shut up!"

Toomes only laughed harder, and Bucky clenched his teeth as he tried to hold himself back from ripping the madman apart with his bare hands.

"You should have seen him squirm when I went in there. He tried to escape, but only the one time. I made him regret it."

Sam felt the heat of anger burn through him and his finger pressed a little harder on the trigger, wanting so badly to just shoot him and get it over with. "You a sick son of a bitch."

He didn't stop. "I hit him over and over again."

Steve's voice was loud in the small space, and Peter watched the footage on the phone, frozen as he watched the scene play out. "Get on the ground, Toomes!"

Toomes' voice rose ever louder, teeth baring as he spit the words out. "I HIT HIM UNTIL HE WAS BEGGING ME TO STOP AND I JUST KEPT ON GOING! THERE'S NOTHING LEFT FOR YOU TO SAVE!"

Steve jerked his shield forward in a threat. "I said shut up!"

Toomes wouldn't let up and it was becoming clear he wouldn't stop until he got what he wanted. The Avengers around him wanted so badly to just kill him and end it but their mission was to bring him to justice, not carry out an execution.

Toomes jerked forward, pointing his gun at Steve's face. "I'm not going to stop until that little shit is in the ground! And I'm going to make you watch!"

Rhodey's voice came through the coms once more, kicking up everyone's anxiety tenfold.

"Guys, Peter isn't breathing! We need those medics in here now!"

They were running out of time.

Bruce's voice came next, out of breath and frantic. "He's going to die! Take care of Toomes and get the medics in!"

Toomes heard it and smiled again, voice dipping lower as he revelled in the anguish and panic he was causing.

"I'm not going to come easy. I'm going to draw this out until that kid dies under your friend's hands. He isn't leaving that cell alive."

Something in Steve's brain snapped, a realisation clicking into place like a slide in a projector, making everything clear.

Their mission wasn't to arrest Toomes, it was to save Peter. Toomes was giving them a choice, save the kid or let him die. Toomes' death was the justice they sought.

Rhodey yelled through the coms again and Natasha seemed to come to the same realisation as Steve. She fired a bullet straight through Toomes' kneecap, sending him crumpling to the floor with a scream.

The alien gun was lifted, aiming towards the Avenger but Steve got to him first, slamming his shield down with all the rage burning through him.

Toomes' neck snapped under the blow and he fell to the cold concrete, dead before he hit the floor.

Steve regarded the body with cold, uncaring eyes and lifted his hand to his coms.

"We got Toomes. Coming to you now."

The video ended and Steve's hands slipped from Peters limp wrists as the teenager slumped against the wall.

Something in Peter finally calmed. It was as if there was an ocean inside of him that had been there since he was taken. It had been rough and rising, drowning him every second that he tried to relax, reminding him his nightmare would never end. But finally, after months of taking in water, of drowning, it was still. His head was quiet and his feet were planted firmly on dry land.

He was so still, breaths coming in slow pulls, shivering ceased. His voice was scarcely a whisper. "It's over."

Tony nodded and leant forward, slipping his hands under Peters' arms and lifting him, pulling him to his lap. Peter was almost limp, plaint in Tony's hands as he was pulled to that strong chest and wrapped up in his protective arms.

Peter's head tucked under Tony's chin as the man spoke to him, voice soft. "You're safe, Peter. You don't have to fight anymore."

The kid finally believed him, words falling, relieved, from Peters' mouth. "You saved me."

There was no more fighting, no more fear. It was done.

(AN: Thank you so so so much for everyone that read and followed this stroy and everyone that commented and supported me through it! I really hope that you enjoyed it and I look forward to getting into my next story!)


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